


How Do You Want Me

by Moit



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, M/M, Mpreg, Parenthood, Self-Harm, Smut, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-10-16
Updated: 2010-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-03 20:40:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 34
Words: 69,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2886830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moit/pseuds/Moit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry sneaks out of his dorm and runs into the one and only, Draco Malfoy. After Draco gives him an illegal potion, their world is about to be flipped upside down</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've finally revised Chapter 1, which leaves me with 33 chapters to go. Whether you've read this before, or are new to the story, this is going to be a slightly different version than the original, as I consider this the final copy and the original a draft. One main change is that this copy will include a lot more of Ron and Hermione, who I somehow managed to exclude the first time around.
> 
>  
> 
> **ETA: This story is old as crap, so if I'm missing tags/warnings/anything, please let me know!**

A dark shadow slid along the corridor near the trophy room. Opposite the shadow, hidden under his invisibility cloak, crept Harry Potter. The shadow stumbled into a suit of armour sending it crashing in pieces to the stone floor. Alarmed, Harry let go of the cloak and it fluttered to his feet. The shadow ducked into the light in an attempt to catch the pieces of the falling statue when it realized someone else was there. The person stepped fully into the light and Harry drew his wand. It wouldn't do to allow the enemy to corner him while he was still unarmed.

"Potter," Draco Malfoy sneered, taking slow, deliberate steps toward the Gryffindor. "What's wrong scar-head? No Weasel or mudblood to second you this time?" He mocked as his cold grey eyes fixed on Harry. Harry backed up against the wall, but the Slytherin boy kept advancing. Draco was close; Harry could feel the taller boy's hot breath on his face.

"I don't see you with a second, Malfoy." Harry eyed the invisibility cloak at his feet, silently judging whether he’d have time to summon it before Draco realized what he was doing.

Unfortunately his distraction cost him a heavy price. Draco cast expelliarmus and his wand was suddenly at Harry's throat.

"I didn't think you’ll need that cloak—at least not until I’m done with you." Draco smirked, causing things low in Harry’s groin to stir. "Drop your wand."

"Malfoy, let's just duel so I can go back to bed, all right? I have a Defence exam tomorrow. Just give me my ruddy wand back and make this a fair fight"

Draco arched a perfect eyebrow. "I'm rather amused, Potter. As if I would take your feelings in to account while deciding what I should do with such a delicious at wandpoint. You’re forgetting I’m the Slytherin here."

“What do you want, Malfoy? Obviously you don’t want a duel. Would you rather a scrap with fists muggle-style? I’ll oblige you, kick your arse, and you can go back to the dungeons where you belong,” Harry challenged, his bravery mounting.

“Do you really know what I want, Potter?"

"With you, I could only imagine," Harry answered through gritted teeth.

"What I want," Draco purred, reaching a hand up, to caress Harry's cheek, “is you.”

The Gryffindor flinched visibly. “You’re a sick fuck, Malfoy. I don’t do blokes. And even if I did, I would never do you.”

Draco chuckled. He ran his thumb over Harry’s sweat-damp cheeks before leaning in and capturing the smaller boy’s lips in a soft kiss.

Harry's eyes grew wide as he frantically tried to push Draco away. The Slytherin bit down on Harry's bottom lip and taking advantage of the opportunity slid his tongue into the smaller boy's warm mouth.

Having been nearly celibate during his sixteen years, Harry's hormones began to kick in and he couldn't help but kiss Draco back. Draco's tongue felt like velvet against his own. The Gryffindor slid his arms around the taller boy's neck and pulled him closer. Harry lost himself in the kiss. The blond gently but firmly wedged his knee between Harry's, nestling his thigh against the warmth of the brunette's crotch. Jade eyes flew open when he felt his rival's leg press against his arousal.

"Malfoy," Harry mumbled against the smooth lips.

"What?" Draco asked between kisses.

"We should-" Harry groaned as the blond trailed wet kisses down his throat, pausing to suck on his Adam's apple. "-go somewhere more private." Storm grey eyes met his own, accompanied by a mischievous grin.

"Why Potter, I thought you'd never ask."

Harry stumbled along in front of Draco underneath the invisibility cloak feeling somewhat like a hostage, considering he had no clue where they were going. They made their way very slowly down the stairs to the dungeons and stopped just short of the entrance to the Slytherin common room. Draco slipped out from under the cloak with his wand, facing a portrait of two elderly wizards playing cards.

"The ace of spades will win the game," Draco whispered to the wizard on the left.

"Are you sure-" Harry started, but Draco silenced him with a finger to his lips.

The man on the left winked at Draco and gave the slightest nod. The portrait faded into the surrounding wall, which revealed a door. Draco turned the handle and allowed the door to swing into the room.

"What are you waiting for?" The blond asked, gesturing towards the entrance. Harry took a deep breath and walked slowly through the doorway. As he stepped through, the silver cloak slipped from his fingertips to puddle at his feet.

The floor was wood, complimenting four-poster bed in the centre of the room. Deep emerald curtains tied back to each post revealed a soft velvet duvet. With a whispered word from Draco, the fireplace that took up the majority of the left wall flared to life, casting a slight glow upon the couple. It also made the room feel more comfortable; a feeling not unlike the Gryffindor common room.

"You like?" The silky voice behind Harry made him jump.

"It's amazing," He whispered.

Draco's arms slid around his waist and his chin rested on the brunette's shoulder. "It's mine. The Slytherin prefects get a room to themselves."

Harry could only nod in reply.

The blond slid his hand down Harry's belly to cup his arousal. Harry sucked his breath in sharply through clenched teeth. "Maybe you should get comfortable." Draco grinned, pushing him onto the bed.

"I'm going to regret this tomorrow morning." Harry sighed deeply, leaning back into Draco's caresses.

"Brilliant. I'll be right back," Draco whispered, licking Harry's neck before disappearing into the bathroom.

As quietly as he could, Draco unzipped the bag he had left in there and pulled out a vial. It contained a blood red liquid that had the consistency of an expensive red wine. Closing his fingers over the vial, he headed back to where Harry lay on the bed looking innocent and nervous. Draco climbed back onto the bed and straddled the brunette's hips.

"I've never-"

"Hush," Draco said, placing a finger on Harry's lips. "Just relax. I promise I won't hurt you."

"But-" Harry started again.

Draco revealed the vial he held. "Drink this; it will help you loosen up."

Harry looked at the potion sceptically before downing it in one go. He blinked his eyes a few times as they began to water.

"That was pretty strong," He croaked. "Are you sure it was supposed to help me relax?"

"Of course," Draco answered, a sinister smile creeping up his lips.

"All right," Harry said, smiling as well.

Draco collapsed against Harry's chest, breathing hard. Harry smoothed the blond hair out of his eyes and kissed him deeply. Draco slid his arms under Harry's shoulders and held him tight.

"I love you, Harry Potter," Draco said, as he pulled away to look into Harry's eyes.

"Whoa,” Harry said, putting his hands up in physical defence against Draco’s words. “I told you, Malfoy, I don’t swing that way. This was just sex.”

Swallowing hard, Draco tried to keep his heart from dropping through his stomach. Something had gone wrong with the love potion he gave Harry. It was something he found in an old tome in his father's library. The potion had taken 2 months to make and required some hard-to-find ingredients, not to mention the fact that love potions themselves were illegal. If something had gone wrong, the results could be devastating.

"Don't you," Draco closed his eyes trying to regain his thoughts, "don't you have feelings for me?"

Harry laughed at the question and sobered when he realized Draco was serious. "Malfoy, I hate you," he said slowly, as though speaking to a small child, "and you hate me."

"I don't hate you," Draco said, quietly.

“Yes." Harry stood up and pulled his boxers on. "Yes," He said again, pulling his trousers up and buckling them wrong in frustration. "Yes, you do." He roughly pulled his shirt on; tie and robe in hand. With a deep breath, he turned to look at Draco. "You don't love me. I don't love you and we only had sex-" He stopped in mid-sentence and closed his eyes tightly as a wave of unexpected pain over took his body.

"Harry?" Draco asked, sitting up in alarm.

Harry took a deep breath and opened his eyes to look at Draco again.

"We only had sex-" Another wave of pain rippled through his body and Draco was already getting dressed. "We only-" This time Harry cried out and fell to the floor in pain. Draco pulled his shirt and trousers on haphazardly and gathered a trembling Harry into his arms.

"Oh gods, it hurts," He choked out, holding onto Draco as tight as he could. "It hurts so badly." Harry buried his face into Draco's shoulder as the pain and sobs wracked his thin frame.

Draco did not think twice as he kicked his door open and made his way through the dungeons up to the hospital wing. Luckily, nobody else was in the hallway because it was well after hours. Sliding into the infirmary, Draco called out for the medi-witch, uncaring whether she was asleep or not. Harry had since taken to concentrating on steady breathing as the tremors quaked through his body. They were so intense Draco could feel them as well.

Madame Pomfrey ran out of her quarters in a flurry. When she saw Harry in Draco’s arms, she nearly went into a panic. Motioning for Draco to lay the sobbing teenager on an empty bed, the medi-witch quickly cast a few scanning spells to check his vital signs.

"What happened?" She asked, scanning Harry with her wand.

"I didn't do anything!" Draco shrieked.

"Mr. Malfoy, Potter is in critical condition," the nurse said, staring pointedly at the monitor next to the bed, "if you don't tell me what happened, he could die."

Draco sighed deeply. There was no escape now. "I- I gave him a love potion. I didn't mean to hurt him! Honestly! I just thought- well, I gave him the potion and then we had sex and then he-"

"Silencio!" Pomfrey shouted the silencing spell. "Enough babbling, Mr. Malfoy. I just needed to know what happened. Love potions are very dangerous—not to mention illegal—but I should be able to reverse the effects."

After what seemed like hours, Madame Pomfrey stepped away from Harry’s bedside. She held her wand out in front to herself horizontally.

"Mr. Malfoy, come over here."

Draco stepped forward, casting a nervous glance towards the Gryffindor, who appeared to be sleeping in the sterile white hospital bed. He raised his eyes to the mediwitch’s disapproving glare.

"Do you know what this means?" She indicated the glowing pink tip of her wand.

"No, ma’am," he said, although a sick feeling his stomach told him differently. He saw that very same sign when-

"Mr. Malfoy, the potion you used on Mr. Potter is grounds for expulsion."

Draco held his breath.

"However, it is up to him to decide whether he would like to take that course of action against the father of his child."

Closing his eyes, Draco exhaled. "It’s a girl, isn’t it?"

Pomfrey pursed her lips. "You may be a foolish young man, but at least you are no stranger to the world. The only thing we can do now is let him rest." She shook her head sadly before walking out of the room.

Draco sat down in a chair next to Harry’s bed. He took the Gryffindor’s small hand, careful not to disturb the sleeping boy, and cradled it between his own hands.

"I never meant for it to turn out like this, Harry," Draco whispered, "I just wanted you to love me." He stood up. "When you’re ready to talk, you’ll find me."

Ron and Hermione were at the infirmary as soon as Professor McGonagall told them Harry had been taken there. The Head of House refused to tell him exactly how their best friend ended up there. Instead, she just recommended (insisted) they visit, should Harry wake up.  
Hermione approached the bed slowly, Ron trailing a few steps behind.

“Oh, Harry, what have you done, now?” She asked, taking a seat next to the bed.

Harry looked much younger than sixteen lying on the hospital-white sheets that seemed to bleed the colour from his already pallid complexion.

“He probably went out for a midnight duel with Malfoy,” Ron joked.

“Ron!” Hermione chastised. “That’s not funny. Harry could be in serious trouble right now.”

Ron raised his eyebrows, regarding his friend. “Well, I’m sure that’s not the case. He would have woken me up to second.”

Hermione shook her head disapprovingly and turned her attention back to Harry. “He looks so sick,” she said, smoothing the fringe back from his forehead.

Just then, Madame Pomfrey came into the room, doing rounds.

“Madame Pomfrey?” Hermione asked, turning to the mediwitch.

“Yes, dear?” the woman asked without taking her attention from the chart in her hands.

“Could you tell us why Harry is here? Has he been cursed?”

Ron and Pomfrey could both practically see the wheels in Hermione’s head turning. Sometimes the girl was too bright for her own good.

“I’m afraid I can’t,” Pomfrey said, pursing her lips. “I’m under strict patient-mediwitch confidentiality as per the Department of Magical Healing and Prevention.”

Hermione nodded, but she didn’t look entirely convinced. “Thank you,” she said, nodding.

When she and Ron left the infirmary, she turned in the direction opposite Gryffindor tower.

“Do I need to ask where you’re going?” Ron asked, sighing heavily.

Hermione stopped and turned to face the redhead with her hands on her hips. “Ronald, if you would pay attention just once maybe you would remember something other than Quidditch facts.” She huffed audibly. “Are you that dense? There is no Department of Magical Healing and Prevention. All mediwizards and mediwitches are certified by St. Mungos, which is regulated by the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall are covering something up, I know it. Something strange happened to Harry last night.”

“Maybe he just didn’t want us to know that he ate a bad cauldron cake or something. Why do you always jump to the worst conclusions? This is Harry we’re talking about.”

“Exactly!” Hermione exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. She strode off down the hall towards the library, leaving a bewildered Ron in her wake.

Harry woke up several days later. Draco hadn’t been back to see him, but Ron and Hermione visited every day.

"Madame Pomfrey?" Harry called out timidly, sitting up in the bed, fumbling for his glasses.

The medi-witch hurried into the room. "Oh dear, you’re awake!" Running her wand down the length of his body, she gave him an appraising look. "How do you feel?"

Harry scrunched up his face, stretching his arms over his head. "I’m still a little tired," he shrugged, "But I feel okay."

"No pain anywhere?"

"No." Harry’s dark eyebrows furred. "What happened to me? How long have I been here?"

"What do you remember?"

Harry closed his eyes tightly, as though it would assist his memory. "I was with Malfoy and we," his cheeks coloured lightly and he looked away. "I don’t remember anything after that."

"Harry, have you ever thought about having children?"

Harry’s head whipped towards the question, a curious eyebrow raised. "Of course I have, but what does that have to do with Malfoy?"

The tension in the room was thick and Madame Pomfrey didn’t answer at first. She looked steadily into Harry’s green eyes as the sixteen-year-old stared just as steadily back at her. "Mr. Malfoy gave you an illegal love potion."

Harry’s eyebrows disappeared under his fringe, but he said nothing.

"I’m not going to drag this out. The potion he gave you was supposed to bind you to him forever. Unfortunately, the potion didn’t work the way he intended."

"I’m pregnant," Harry interrupted.

Madame Pomfrey nodded. "Fortunately it can be terminated within minutes, leaving you without a scar."

Harry’s attention drifted from the mediwitch to his flat stomach. He spread his hands palm-down over the surface protectively. "Please don’t make me," he said suddenly, turning his head to look at Madame Pomfrey.

Taken aback, the medi-witch said nothing. Instead, she stood up and nodded. "Your robes are on the nightstand along with your wand. You are free to go." She turned and walked out of the room, leaving Harry to his own thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry got back to the Gryffindor common room before everyone was finished with lunch. He hadn’t had time to deal with what happened himself, let alone deal with the other Gryffindors. Climbing the stairs, he let himself into the empty sixth-year dorm room.

Harry collapsed on his bed face first. The hospital beds were nothing compared to his soft scarlet duvet. He lay like that until the others came back.

"Harry!" 

Harry rolled over and gave his dorm-mates a forced smile. "Madame Pomfrey can never keep me in the hospital wing for too long."

"So what happened, mate?" Ron asked, sitting down on his own bed.

"You don't know?" Harry regarded the other four occupants of the room carefully as they all shook their heads. "Malfoy hexed me something nasty the other night when I snuck out to go see someone," he lied smoothly. 

"That must have been some hex," Ron quipped, "every time Hermione and I came to see you, you were asleep!"

"You know how Pomfrey is," Harry replied, "She kept shoving potions down my throat."

"You’re just lucky it wasn’t Snape. You could be dead by now, you could," Seamus chimed in.

They all shared a laugh at the jab.

"Speaking of Snape, we’ve got him in about five minutes and I for one don’t want to be late. Are you coming, Harry?" Neville asked, gathering his books.

"Yes," he sighed begrudgingly. "I'll get detention and lose house points if I'm not there." He screwed up his face in a very Snape-like way. "Mister Potter, spending two days in the infirmary because of your own half-wittedness is no excuse for missing my classes. 50 points from Gryffindor." 

The other sixth-years laughed as his joke.

Ron gave Harry a tight-lipped smile. "Hermione left your assignments on your trunk. She never misses a beat, that girl."

"Feel better, Harry," Dean added, before following Ron, Seamus and Neville out the door.

Harry sighed, glancing at the rolls of parchment. "Fantastic."

He followed Ron out of the dormitory and down the spiral staircase. "So what have I missed the last two days?"

"Flitwick wants us to practice the Aguamenti charm, McGonagall wants us to write two feet about the importance of theory in object-to-animal transfiguration, and for Astronomy we need to map the rotation schedule of Jupiter for the last 15 years," Ron made a face. "Bloody useful, that. I'm sure I'll never need to map the rotation schedule of anything when I'm an Auror." 

"Nothing from Trelawney, then?"

"Naw," Ron shook his head. "She was so caught up in saying how you were going to die that she completely forgot to give us any."

Harry paled slightly, but forced a laugh.

"Don't worry about it mate, you're fine."

"Uh, about that," Harry cleared his throat. He was about to tell Ron what happened when he saw Snape striding down the hall towards them. "Let's get inside before Snape takes points away."

The pair hurried inside and found their seats. Snape still wasn't forgiving.

"Five points from Gryffindor," He sneered, slamming the dungeon door.

"Sir?" Harry asked in a futile attempt to make his case.

"Keep quiet Potter or it will be another five." He swept over the board, tapping it with his wand. "The instructions are on the board. You have two hours. Begin."

As Harry began to lay out his potions things and get his ingredients from the student stores, he noticed Draco trying to catch his eye, but resolutely ignored him. 

He managed to pull together a Euphoria Elixir without hurting himself or anyone around him. Even Snape had nothing to say when Harry corked his bright yellow potion and took it to the front of the room for grading. 

Harry was out of the room the moment the bell rang, losing himself in the crowd of students filing from the other classrooms. He had successfully disappeared by the time Draco made his way out of the dungeon. 

He made his way back to his room Gryffindor tower, stopping only to give the fat lady the password, dilligrout. The day bled way as he slept on and off for the next few hours. It wasn’t until Ron came to collect him for dinner that Harry awoke.

"Oi, mate, wake up. Are you coming to dinner?" 

Harry sat up, nodding as he wiped the sleep from his eyes.

"I haven’t had real food in days."

He followed Ron down to the Great Hall, but stopped just short of the entrance.

"What is it?" Ron asked.

"Nothing," Harry said, shaking his head.

Harry opened the door and crossed the Hall quickly, not daring a glance towards the Slytherin side of the room. He took his usual seat between Ron and Hermione, which unfortunately faced the same blond he was trying to avoid. 

Draco caught his eye and held his stare for a minute, then looked away. Harry pushed his untouched plate away from himself.

"I’m not hungry anymore," he mumbled to nobody in particular.

"Oh, but Harry, you’ve got to eat something," Hermione prodded. 

Harry shook his head, standing up. "I’ll nick something from the kitchens later." He scurried out of the hall clutching his stomach, very sure that he was going to loose the contents all over the floor.

"Harry!" 

He whirled around, expecting to find Ron or Hermione.

"Leave me alone," he growled, narrowing his eyes.

"I just want to talk to you," Draco sighed, walked up to the brunette, "You at least owe me that."

"I don’t owe you shite, Malfoy." 

He turned around and stalked off in the direction of Gryffindor Tower.

"I know about the baby!" Draco called out softly.

Harry stopped, but he didn’t turn around. "How," he asked, desperately trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

Draco took several even steps until he was in front of the Gryffindor. Wordlessly, he pulled a silver cloak out of his robes.

"You left this in my room. I wasn’t spying; I just wanted to see if you were okay."

"You always were a dodgy liar," Harry snapped, snatching the cloak out of Draco’s hands. "Move out of my way."

"I just want to talk to you," Draco pleaded, placing a hand on Harry's elbow.

"Don’t touch me!" Harry roared, jerked away.

"Harry!" Hermione called from behind him.

"Leave him alone, Malfoy." Ron approached steadily with his wand drawn. 

Draco stepped back and raised his hands, palms out in defence. 

"We know what you did to him." Ron glared into Draco’s eyes, stopping next to Harry.

Draco looked from Harry to Ron, confused. "You told them?" Draco asked, as his eyes settled on Harry.

"Of course he told us," Hermione answered indignantly, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder.

"Weasley! Lower your wand this instant!" The trio spun around to see Snape striding towards them.

Ron shoved his want in the pocket of his robes. "Professor I-"

"-I’ve seen enough. Granger, go back to your dormitory. Mr. Malfoy, take Potter to my office and wait for me. Weasley, come with me."

"But Professor-" Hermione interrupted.

Snape rounded on the solitary female. "Go back to your dormitory, Ms. Granger, unless you would like to find yourself in detention for the remainder of this week. 

Hermione cast an apologetic glance at her friends before heading off towards Gryffindor Tower. 

"Let’s go, Weasley." Snape said, dragging Ron down the hallway by his upper arm. 

"All right, Potter?" Draco turned and began walking in the opposite direction. 

Harry followed him wordlessly to Snape’s office. Snape entered the room a short while later, a satisfied smirk on his face. The smirk faded as he sat behind his desk facing the latest Hogwarts rivals.

"Malfoy. Potter." He regarded each boy. "Mr. Malfoy, please explain to me why I found the four of you in the corridor while Weasley had his wand drawn."

"Professor-" Harry started, but Snape held up a hand to silence him.

"I did not ask for your distorted view of the events, Potter."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest and slumped farther in the chair. Snape pointedly ignored him.

"I was walking towards the Great Hall when I came across Potter," Draco started.

"Bullocks Malfoy!" Harry exclaimed, "You followed me!"

"Enough Potter. Five points from Gryffindor. Would you like to accompany Weasley tonight in Mr. Filch’s detention?"

Exhaling loudly through his nose, Harry said nothing. He sat there fuming as Draco told Snape how he merely sidestepped Harry when Ron and Hermione came bursting out of the Great Hall, threatening to hex him.

Snape nodded, brow creased in thought. "An additional ten points from Gryffindor, then, for provoking a fellow student." He looked to Harry for a sign of defiance.

Harry’s only response was to narrow his eyes bite down hard on his lower lip. 

"Let me catch you off guard again, Potter. Your arse will be mine." Snape’s black eyes stared into Harry’s emerald until the Gryffindor lowered his in submission. "You are dismissed," he said with a wave of his hand.

Harry stood up so fast, his chair tipped over backwards. He didn’t stop to right it; instead bolted from the room. 

Draco didn’t catch up to Harry until Friday night. Harry was the last person in the Quidditch locker room after the Gryffindor/Ravenclaw game. Just as he was pulling his t-shirt over his head, Draco stepped into the room and shut the door behind him.

Harry spun around quickly, dropping his wand in the process. It rolled across the floor towards Draco. Harry raised his chin defiantly and took a step backwards.

"I’m not getting rid of the baby."

"I never asked you to." Draco bent down to retrieve Harry’s wand. He offered it handle-first to the smaller boy.

Harry snatched his wand back. "What do you want, then?"

Draco shoved his hands in the pockets of his trousers. "I just want to talk to you."

"We are talking."

Draco nodded. "Fair enough. Why did you elect to tell Granger and Weasley?"

"I told them you hexed me," Harry said, sitting down on the bench. "I didn’t tell them about the baby."

"Why did you choose to keep it?" Draco asked, cocking his head to the side.

Harry wrapped his arm around his mid section and looked up at Draco.

"I never had a real family growing up. This baby is all I have."

"Do you mind if I sit down?" 

Harry scooted to the other end of the bench, implying that the space was empty. Draco took the hint, sitting down gingerly in Harry’s vacated seat.

"Why did you go with me the other night?"

Harry looked at everything in the locker room except Draco before answering. "Curiosity," he said after a long silence. "How long have you loved me, Draco?" Harry turned to the blond, meeting his eyes evenly.

Draco’s ivory cheeks tinged pink. "Since last summer when we were stuck in Grimmauld Place together." 

Harry took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "Have you told anyone?"

"No," Draco replied quickly. "Do you want to?"

"I’d rather not," Harry shook his head roughly. "I would prefer to keep it a secret, if that’s okay with you."

Draco’s eyes widened. "It’s entirely up to you, Harry."

The Gryffindor stood up. "I’m not going to pretend I like you, Draco. I’m also not going to pretend that I like what happened. Fortunately for you, this baby has a right to know who his or her father is."

"It’s a girl," Draco replied suddenly.

"What?" Harry asked, quirking an eyebrow at the Slytherin.

"It’s a girl," Draco repeated. "Madame Pomfrey told me right after I took you to the hospital wing."

"Well, she deserves to know her other father, then."

Draco cleared his throat nervously. "Is there- ah- any hope for us?" He asked, trying not to meet Harry’s eyes.

"I’d like to start out as friends," Harry said formally, holding out his hand. 

Draco shook the hand, a gesture that was six years too late.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry’s first month of pregnancy passed relatively easily. His Quidditch ban given to him by Umbridge the previous year gave him a good excuse to stay off the Pitch.

He still hadn’t told Ron and Hermione about the baby, and the prospect of doing so was getting smaller. Every Saturday evening when Ron and Hermione were off snogging together, Harry would meet Draco in his room. There they would talk, study or whatever came to mind.

The first Saturday of October found them discussing post graduation ideas.

"Father always insisted that I would end up at the Ministry with him," Draco said, popping another Bertie Botts Every Flavor bean in his mouth. "Gross, soap!" The blond made a face as he spit the chewed up confection into his hand.

Harry grinned and took another from the red satchel between them. "Raspberry. I never gave much thought to it, actually. With the war going on, I never really expected to live long enough to find a career."

Draco tied the bag of jellybeans and set it aside. "If you could do anything after school, what would it be?"

Harry thought hard for a minute before answering. "A year ago, I probably would have said that I wanted to be an Auror. But now," he unconsciously slipped a hand beneath his jumper, "I just want to settle down."

A look of shame crossed Draco’s pristine features.

"My intention was never to ruin your future," he said softly, looking down at his grey bedspread.

"You didn’t, Draco," Harry covered the blonde’s hand with his own free one. "You gave me some one to love." Looking down at his stomach, Harry missed the look of pain that crossed Draco’s features.

"Have you thought of any names yet?" Draco asked, changing the subject.

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "Nothing, really. I thought about naming her after my mother, Lily."

"Lily is a beautiful name," Draco said, nodding.

Harry made a face.

"I just don’t want her to grow up as the daughter of Harry Potter and granddaughter of the late Lily Potter."

"Lily could be her middle name," Draco offered.

"I thought of that too," Harry closed his eyes and sighed. "Maybe I’ll name her Delores."

Draco caught his eye and they both broke out in peals of laughter.

Harry returned to his dorm much later in the evening. The only person left in the common room was Hermione. She often stayed up late studying and Saturday was no exception. Harry took a seat next to her at the well-used wooden table.

"Hi, Harry. Where have you been?"

Harry bit his lip before answering. "I was with Malfoy."

"Malfoy?" Hermione looked up from her book. "What in the world were you doing with _Malfoy_?" She said his name as thought I left a bad taste in her mouth.

"Hermione, can I trust you to accept me no matter what decisions I make?" he asked, avoiding the question.

"Yes," Hermione answered, giving Harry her full attention.

"I’m pregnant, Hermione," he said quickly.

"Oh, Harry!" She squealed. "I’ve read all about male pregnancy! Oh, I knew you were gay! When are you due? Do you know the sex of the baby?" She gave him a tight hug. "Who's the other father?" Hermione sobered and the smile slid off her face. "Explain," she demanded, crossing her arms over hr chest.

"Do you remember the night I ended up in the hospital wing?"

Hermione nodded.

"Malfoy and I," Harry paused, searching for the right word, "conceived the baby that night." He purposely left out the part about the illegal love potion.

"Why didn’t you tell me earlier?" Hermione hugged him again. "I had no idea you and Draco got together this summer! Are you going to move in together next year after graduation? Harry!" A hand flew to her mouth. "What are you going to do with the baby next year while you're still in school?"

Harry quickly tried to mask the look of extreme confusion that crossed his face. He didn’t bother correcting any of Hermione’s mistakes.

"We haven’t really talked about it." This much was true. "The baby was slightly unexpected."

Hermione’s brows furrowed together. "Slightly unexpected? Harry you can’t get pregnant without a fertility potion."

Rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, Harry gave her a lopsided smile as his cheeks coloured.

"Then how-" Hermione gasped. "Draco didn’t tell you?"

Harry shook his head, unable to meet her eyes.

Sighing deeply, Hermione pursed her lips.

Harry placed his hand on the girl’s arm. "Hermione, please don’t tell Ron. I want to tell him myself"

Hermione’s gaze softened. "Of course. And I want you to know I will always be here for you, Harry," she said sincerely.

"I knew you’d understand, Mione." He stood up yawning widely. "I'm off to bed."

With a final yawn, he walked up the stairs to his dormitory.

Hermione shook her head. "Draco Malfoy, you better be ready."

The next morning, Hermione marched down to the Great Hall earlier than most of the Gryffindors. Hermione was in luck, Draco was already there. She stalked over to the Slytherin table and started whispering in the blond's ear. Her grip on his forearm grew tighter the longer she talked. Draco also began to grow steadily paler than his usual light tone. When she was done, he rose from the table and silently followed her into the hallway.

Harry found Draco some time later mulling over his Potions book in the library.

"Hey, you," Harry said quietly, sitting down next to the Slytherin.

Flicking his eyes up, Draco gave Harry a tight-lipped smile.

Harry furred his brows. "Is there something bothering you?"

Draco turned a page. "No."

Harry sat there for a moment, waiting for Draco to say something else. When he said nothing, Harry slipped a hand under his jumper, an action that was fast becoming habit. He tried to make a little bit of small talk with the Slytherin. Unfortunately, all he got was a few grunts and nods.

"Well," Harry whispered. "I guess I’ll stop bothering you."

He stood up.

Draco slammed his book shut before Harry could walk away. "Granger already made it quite clear that you don’t want to see me anymore."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "What are you talking about?"

Draco gathered up his books. "It’s bad enough you had to use me, Potter," he growled. "But don’t blame me because your boyfriend doesn’t want your bastard child."

Pushing past the brunette roughly, Draco left the library without a second glance.

After gathering his wits, Harry stormed out of the library. Draco was already gone, but the Slytherin wasn’t Harry’s target. He shouted the password at the fat lady and scrambled though the portrait hole.

"Granger!" he bellowed across the common room, "We need to talk!"

Across the room, Hermione slowly packed her books into her bag. Ignoring the other Gryffindors’ looks, she followed a seething Harry through the portrait. He led them to an unused classroom.

Hermione hopped up onto a desk, swinging her legs.

"It’s dark in here." She waved her wand and the candles in the room erupted into light.

"What did you say to Draco?" Harry snapped

Hermione pointedly ignored him. "I wonder why we don't use this room, it's big."

"Dammit, Hermione!" Harry slammed his hands down on either side of her. "I asked you a question!"

The girl sniffed indignantly. "I only told him what he needed to know."

Harry’s face turned a darker shade of red. "He is _not_ my boyfriend. But that is no reason to turn him against my baby!"

"Turn him against your baby?" Hermione gave him a look. "I told him the baby wasn’t his!"

"WHAT?" Harry exploded. "Who the fuck would it belong to?"

Hermione winced. "A seventh year Gryffindor who dropped out of school."

"You didn’t even bother making up a name." Harry shook his head, disgusted. "I thought you were better than that, Granger."

He walked out of the library, ignoring Hermione’s pleas for him to come back.

The week passed desperately slow for Harry. He wasn’t talking to Hermione, so Ron wouldn’t talk to him. Every time he saw the two, he ignored Hermione’s pained glances and Ron’s murderous staring. The situation with Draco wasn’t any better. The Slytherin was only in his Potions class and Snape must have known what was going on. A class period never passed without Snape pairing Draco and Harry together. Now, unfortunately, Draco was paired with a Slytherin girl, whom Harry did not know. Harry was left with an over-talkative Hufflepuff -- the only Hufflepuff in Snape’s N.E.W.T level Potions class.

After one particularly grueling class period, Draco hadn’t packed up his belongings as quickly as usual. Harry was slinging his bag over his shoulder when Draco’s hand touched the doorknob.

"Draco, wait," Harry called.

Instead of stopping, the Slytherin continued down the hallway as though he hadn’t heard a thing.

"Malfoy!" Harry called louder in frustration, catching up to the other boy.

"What?" Draco hissed, spinning around.

Caught off guard, Harry was at a loss for words.

"Speak up, Potter. I haven’t got all day," Draco sneered, crossing his arms over his chest.

Harry opened his mouth and closed it, searching for the words.

"Draco, Hermione lied to you," he blurted out.

The ugly look on Draco’s face melted away. "What?"

"She lied to you," Harry said, shifting the bag on his back, "I didn’t have a boyfriend. _You_ are Jamie’s father. There was never any plot. Hermione wanted you to think the baby wasn't yours."

"But Granger said-"

"Hermione didn’t say anything," Harry interrupted. "She let you form your own conclusions. When you’re ready to talk, you’ll find me."

Draco stood there for a moment, dumbfounded, as Harry walked away.


	4. Chapter 4

Draco didn’t seek Harry out for another three weeks, near the middle of November. Harry and his friends still were not talking. Harry’s mood became darker with every passing day and his grades began to reflect it. He started spending more time down by the lake, since he didn’t have any real friends with which to talk. It was here that Draco found him on a Hogsmeade weekend while nearly half the school was gone.  
  
"Knut for your thoughts, Potter?"   
  
Harry looked up sharply, then seeing whom it was, lowered his gaze back down. "What do you want?" His tone was nearly devoid of emotion. He sounded desperately tired, if anything at all.  
  
Draco took a seat next to the Gryffindor. "I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you."  
  
Harry snorted.   
  
"You wouldn’t have believed me," he scoffed, turning his head away.  
  
Draco nodded. "You’re right. But I believe you now."  
  
Harry still didn’t turn his head.  
  
"Harry," Draco grabbed his hand, but it was pulled back as soon as Draco made contact. Looking down at his own hand, he could see blood on it.  
  
"You’re bleeding, Harry," the Slytherin said, reaching for Harry’s hand.  
  
Harry snatched his hand away, pulling the sleeve of his jumper down over it. "It’s nothing. I’m fine." Standing up, Harry fiddled with his a thread from his jumper. "I have to go," he said nervously, before darting off towards the castle.  


\---

  
Harry stopped off in the bathroom on his way back to Gryffindor Tower. The bandage on his arm was soaked through and the blood was beginning to pool in his palm. Hastily, Harry ripped the old bandage off and threw it in the trash. He took a towel from the stack and tied it as tightly as he could around his forearm to clot the bleeding wound.  
  
Trudging up to his dormitory, he was thankful to see that nobody else was there. Harry collapsed on his bed and was asleep in minutes. He slept through dinner and breakfast the next morning. He rolled over on his stomach and felt a wave of nausea wash over him. Luckily, he made it to the loo before emptying the shallow contents of his stomach.  
  
Ron found him there an hour later curled up in a foetal position on the floor.  
  
"Are you alright, mate?" the redhead asked, kneeling down next to his friend.  
  
Harry looked up through heavy lidded eyes. "Have you come to rub the salt in?" Shifting himself to his knees, Harry managed to standing on shaky legs, using the sink as a heavy support.  
  
"I walked in here and I found you laying on the floor bleeding."  
  
"Bad pumpkin juice," Harry mumbled, turning away.   
  
"How did you cut yourself?"  
  
"I mis-fired a spell," Harry answered evenly. "I have to go."  
  
His stomach had managed to settle itself and offered no resistance as Harry bolted from the common room. He ended up in the room on the third floor where Fluffy was kept in his first year.  
  
The room was slightly bigger than his closet at the Dursleys, but nobody ever bothered him there. The trap door through with they travelled towards the Philosopher’s Stone was gone as well, its purpose fulfilled.  
  
Harry lit his wand and set it on a nearby box. A set of eyes in front of him caused Harry to scream and jump backwards into another stack of boxes, sending them toppling to the floor.  
  
"Draco!" he hissed, "What are you doing in here?"  
  
Draco stood up, brushing the dust from his knees. "I followed you here and snuck in right behind you. My father didn’t train me in the Dark Arts for nothing."  
  
"And what a perfect little stalker you turned out to be," Harry said sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest.   
  
"I didn’t come here to fight."  
  
Harry pursed his lips but said nothing.  
  
"Why are you cutting yourself, Harry?"   
  
The Gryffindor’s eyes widened.   
  
"I know that’s what you were doing, so don’t lie to me," Draco added. Crossing his arms over his chest, Draco quirked an eyebrow and waited.  
  
"It’s an old habit," Harry said finally.   
  
"Go on."  
  
"I never told you this, but the Dursleys kept me in a cupboard under the stairs until I was eleven. I was their servant and Vernon’s . . ." Harry trailed off. "I started cutting myself when I was nine, so don’t delude yourself into thinking you can fix me now."   
  
Draco took a step forward, placing his hands gently on Harry’s hips. When the shorter boy didn’t resist, Draco slid his arms around Harry’s waist and shuffled closer.  
  
"I would never try to change you," he whispered into Harry’s neck, "I love you just the way you are and I don’t want to loose you."  
  
Harry wrapped his arms around Draco’s neck, pressing himself flush against the blond. They stood there like that for a moment before Harry said anything.  
  
"I’m scared, Draco," he said in a soft tone.  
  
"Of what?"  
  
"This baby." Harry’s answer was so quiet Draco almost couldn’t hear what he said.  
  
"Oh, Harry," Draco sighed into the brunette’s hair. "We’ll get through this. Unfortunately, if you don’t take care of yourself, you’re not going to be able to take care of Jamie."  
  
"How did you know I decided to call her Jamie?"  
  
Draco grinned. "You slipped up when we were in the library. Are we friends again, love?"  
  
Harry nodded, lowering his eyelids.   


\---

 

Harry subsequently missed his first class the next three days, earning himself a Friday night detention with Snape. Waking up on time wasn’t the problem, rather keeping his breakfast down. Unfortunately, Snape used any opportunity possible to make the Gryffindor’s life miserable.  
  
The only up side to the punishment was that Draco would be joining him on Friday night. During Potions on Wednesday, the Slytherin deliberately flipped Pansy’s cauldron into her lap, spilling a half-brewed sleeping potion over her legs. Snape saw Draco do it and the professor had no choice but to assign his godson detention as well.

  
The pair arrived for attention promptly at 9 o'clock Friday evening. Snape walked into the room shortly after them.

 

"Your detention," he said softly, pointing to a stack of cauldrons. "Will be to scrub these out. They were ruined earlier today by the Gryffindor first-years. Rather than clean them out myself, I decided to use them for your detention. Don't even think about using magic. I've already cast a charm to prevent it. You have until midnight. I _suggest_ you get started."

 

He walked back out of the dungeon, slamming the door behind him.

 

Harry sighed and looked at his companion. "Shall we?"

 

They spent the next two hours scrubbing Merlin-knows-what from the cauldron bottoms with the sponges and soap Snape left near them. Harry's back and shoulders were aching from the strain and his fingers were raw from scraping the cauldron bottoms. Finally, Draco stood up, having stacked all the cauldrons in a neat clean pile.

  
Draco hopped up onto a desk and raised an eyebrow at the Gryffindor.  
  
"Well, Potter," he drawled. "We’re stuck in here all alone for another hour. What do you want to do?"   
  
He shrugged, sitting on the desk next to Draco. "I'm ready for bed."  
  
"So am I. This is okay, yeah?" Draco asked, sliding an arm around Harry’s waist.  
  
"Yeah," Harry replied, nodding.  
  
Draco laid his head on Harry’s shoulder. Nuzzling his face onto Harry’s neck, he inhaled deeply. "You smell so good."  
  
Harry stiffened slightly.  
  
"I want to kiss you," Draco’s announced, his hot breath ghosting into Harry’s ear.  
  
The smaller boy shivered at the feeling. "Okay."

 

Draco began placing open-mouthed kisses along the line of Harry’s jawbone. Harry tried to sit still, but his lover made it harder by sliding his hand underneath Harry’s jumper to rub the soft swell of his growing belly.  
  
"Draco?"  
  
A soft humming noise was the only response Harry got.  
  
"Are you trying to fuck me?"   
  
Draco sat up, folding his arms over his chest. "The answer is no and why would you ask me a question like that?"  
  
Harry pulled his jumper down self consciously, and wrapped his arms around himself. "Vernon would always take it really slow before he molested me to make me think I was the one that wanted it."

 

"What?" Draco asked. He stood up, a confused look on his face. "Your uncle molested you?" He turned around, pacing in front of the Gryffindor.   
  
"I'm sorry. I know I'm disgusting. I'm terrible. You don't want me anymore. I completely understand . . ."

 

Draco tried to interrupt, but Harry was no longer listening. He had drawn his knees up to his chest and was rocking himself back and forth, babbling the entire time. Tears were streaming down his pale cheeks. He looked similar to a broken china doll. When Draco tried to place his hand on the shaking Gryffindor’s shoulder, Harry jerked away and fell to the floor.  
  
"My arse hurts," he groaned sitting up. The fall seemed to have knocked the sense back into him.  
  
"Are you alright?" Draco asked, helping the smaller boy up.  
  
"Yeah, I’m fine," Harry answered, seemingly back to his senses. "Sorry about that. I- I see Pomfrey sometimes for therapy, but doesn't seem to do me much good."  
  
"I’m not helping any," Draco added.   
  
Harry shook his head vehemently. "Draco I wouldn’t still be standing here without you."  
  
"You don’t mean that," Draco replied dismally.  
  
"No," Harry stepped closer to the blond, "You gave me this," he thrust Draco’s hand up under his shirt to rest on his stomach. With wide eyes, he nodded emphatically.  
  
"What’s going on in here?" Snape bellowed, bursting through the door.  
  
"Potter was just being his normal dunderhead self!" Draco shouted, pushing the brunette away.  
  
Snape eyed the two suspiciously.   
  
"Why are you finished already?" he asked sceptically, stalking over to the stacked cauldrons.  
  
"I did that, Sir," Draco answered arrogantly. "Potter cleaned a couple, but he hasn’t the efficiency I have."  
  
"Very well." Snape seemed to accept the story. "Get back to your dormitories, then. It's late."  
  
Harry raised his eyebrows, looking at his wristwatch. Snape never let him out of detention an hour early before. Draco’s presence probably had something to do with it.  
  
Draco walked Harry up to Gryffindor. They stopped in front of the Fat Lady and Draco turned to face the brunette. He clasped Harry’s hands in his own.  
  
"Goodnight, love."

 

Draco placed a chaste kiss on Harry’s lips before retiring to his own dorm.

 

\---

“How was detention, mate?” Ron asked the next morning through a mouthful of eggs.  
  
Harry sat down, a surprised look on his face. “I thought you weren’t talking to me.”  
  
Ron swallowed his mouthful as a rosy blush tinted his freckled cheeks.  
  
“I sort of forgot why I was mad when I found you on the floor of the loo.”  
  
“I’m sorry I never told you about Draco.”  
  
“Draco?”

 

“Yes I-”  
  
“Why are you calling that wanker by his first name?”  
  
Harry shifted his eyes to Hermione, who was buried inside yet another book.   
  
“Hermione didn’t tell you?”  
  
“Tell me what?”  
  
Harry sighed and took a long drink of pumpkin juice.  
  
“I’m seeing Draco. That’s why Hermione wasn’t talking to me. She tried to break us up, but it didn’t work.”  
  
Ron scrunched his face up and Harry braced himself.  
  
“I knew you liked blokes, but Malfoy?”  
  
“It’s a long story,” Harry replied with a nervous laugh.  
  
Ron shrugged. "You're still my best mate – even if you're shagging that nasty git."  


Harry smiled despite himself. "Thanks Ron. That really means a lot."

 

"O Pobum," Ron garbled through the remainder of his eggs, which Harry understood to mean 'no problem'.

 

Harry let out a sigh of relief. With Ron back on his side, Hermione had to be right behind him. And besides, things were going to be a lot easier now that he had his best friend to confide in once again.


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione still hadn’t come around a week after Harry and Ron made up. She had taken to ignoring both of her best friends. Ron tried to pretend he didn’t care, but since they had recently gotten together, it was quite difficult to ignore the fact that his girlfriend wasn't talking to him. Finally, Harry had enough.  
  
"Hello, Hermione," Harry said, sitting down in front of Hermione one night at dinner.  
  
She ignored him, pretending to be engrossed in her Arithmancy book.  
  
"Hermione, Ron and I decided that it’s shite of you to quit talking to us because I’m snogging Draco Malfoy," he said loud enough for the entire table to hear.  
  
A few curious Gryffindors turned their attention to the pair.  
  
"People are starting to stare at us," Hermione ground out through gritted teeth.   
  
"Let them stare," Harry declared happily. "It’s about to get much more exciting. However, I'm willing to give you one more chance to forget this row."

 

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned a page.   
  
"Suit yourself." Harry raised his wand to his throat, " _Sonorous_." He cleared the space in front of him before stepping onto the table itself.  
  
"Attention, everyone!" he boomed over the chatter in the Hall.

 

The noise immediately died down at the sound of Harry's voice.

 

"I would like to announce that I am dating Draco Malfoy!"  
  
"Mr. Potter, get off that table at once!" McGonagall shouted, standing up.  
  
With red cheeks and a wide grin, Harry allowed himself to be pulled off the table by several Gryffindors. The chatter in the Hall gradually worked its way back up as the excitement of Harry’s announcement died down.   
  
Across the hall, Draco’s friends were congratulating him and slapping him on the back.  
  
"I always knew you had it in you to bed the Golden Boy," Blaise said, chuckling.  
  
Draco’s signature smirk remained on his face, but he said nothing. His eyes were locked on the blushing brunette at the Gryffindor table.  
  
Harry stood up and walked out of the hall.  
  
Draco stood up as well and followed his boyfriend amidst hoots and hollers from his Slytherins.  
  
\---  
  
"What the hell was that?" Draco asked, spinning Harry around by the shoulder to face him.  
  
The Gryffindor met Draco with wide fearful eyes. He was very nearly trembling from head to toe.  
  
"Harry, you were bloody brilliant!" Draco exclaimed, wrapping his arms around the smaller boy’s neck.  
  
"I was?" Harry hesitantly slid his arms around Draco’s waist. His earlier fire seemed to have been doused. "I thought you were mad."  
  
"Why would I be mad?" Draco asked, stepping back to hold Harry at arms length.  
  
"Dunno," the Gryffindor mumbled as he shrugged and looked down at his feet.   
  
"Let’s go sit somewhere and talk, yeah?" Draco said gently, lifting Harry’s chin his fingertips. He led the brunette down to his room.  
  
Once they were settled, he cast a silencing and locking charm on the door in case his roommate Blaise decided to come back.  


Draco allowed Harry to make himself comfortable on the bed before pulling a chair up to the edge of the four-poster. He sat down on the chair backwards, facing Harry.  
  
"All right, now what’s bothering you?"  
  
Harry didn’t say anything at first. He relaxed into the comfort of Draco’s bed and sighed deeply. Then silently, he rolled up the sleeves of his jumper.  
  
Draco traced the scabs lining Harry’s inner forearms gently with his fingertips.  
  
"Was it something I said last night?"  
  
"No," Harry replied, his voice barely containing his unease.  
  
"Did one of the Gryffindors do something to you?"   
  
"No."  
  
"Did someone else do something to you?"  
  
"No, Draco," Harry’s voice rose in frustration. "You said you don’t want to change me, so just accept the fact that I cut myself."  
  
"For no reason?" Draco asked.  
  
"For no reason!" Harry cried, throwing his hands up in the air. "I’ve got pent-up emotion! I’m worried about you. I’m worried about school. I’m worried about the baby. Merlin, I’m worried that I won’t live to see tomorrow."   
  
"Why are you so worried about everything?" Draco asked, as though he hadn’t heard anything Harry just said.   
  
"I’m afraid you’re going to leave me," Harry answered quietly, with wide doe eyes. He was blinking his eyes quickly, trying to hold back tears. "There are plenty of better looking blokes than me. It’s only a matter of time."  
  
"No," Draco said, shaking his head as he wiped the tears away from Harry’s eyes with his thumbs. "There’s nobody I want but you."  
  
Harry smiled despite himself.  
  
"You chose this," he waved a hand over himself, "scarred, bloated, mess over some of the finest wizards in Hogwarts? You’re completely nutters."  
  
Draco grabbed Harry’s wrists and flipped the boy onto his back so Draco was straddling his hips. He kissed the inside of each scarred wrist before setting them down above Harry’s head.  
  
"I love this," Draco placed a soft kiss in the crook of Harry’s elbow beneath his bunched-up jumper. "And this." The next kiss landed on Harry’s collarbone.   
  
Draco dragged his eyes up Harry’s body and held his gaze.  
  
"Most of all, I love this," Draco slid his hand up the front of Harry’s jumper to rest on the slight swell there. There was a sharp intake of breath on Harry’s part as Draco lifted his shirt and began placing soft open-mouthed kisses on the Gryffindor’s belly. Draco moved the kisses upward, pushing Harry's jumper up in the process.

  
"Draco," Harry said uneasily. "I don’t know about this."  
  
"Just relax, love," Draco whispered, silencing him with a kiss.  
  
Harry whimpered when Draco slid the jumper up over his head leaving him in his trousers and socks under Draco’s hungry gaze.  
  
"You are so gorgeous," the blond sighed, running his hands up Harry’s tan chest.  
  
Harry blushed and turned his head to the side, trying to bury his face in Draco’s pillow. He threw an arm over his eyes. "Don’t lie to me, Draco."   
  
In one swift movement, Draco unbuckled Harry’s belt and slid it free from the trousers. "I have never lied to you."  
  
"What are you doing?" Harry squeaked, sitting up so fast he nearly head-butted the Slytherin seated on his hips.  
  
"Just relax," Draco commanded, pushing Harry back down with a hand on his chest.  


"I _don't_ feel comfortable," Harry said defiantly, sitting back up.

 

Draco pushed the blond fringe out of his eyes. "I'm sorry, love, I used the wrong words. I just want you to be comfortable so I can please you."

  
Harry lay down once again, eyeing his boyfriend warily.  
  
"Is it okay if I take your trousers off?" Draco asked.  
  
"What?" Harry’s eyebrows flew up underneath his fringe.  
  
With a wave of his wand, Harry was lying naked beneath him. Draco let his eyes roam over the Adonis appreciatively. He hadn’t seen Harry this way since the infamous night and the sight was glorious.   
  
"Bloody hell!" Harry cried, thrusting both hands over his genitalia. "Again I ask, what are you _doing_?"  
  
"Teaching you what love really means," Draco replied, shifting Harry’s wrists up over his head once more.   
  
Harry’s breath hitched as Draco ran a hand down the Gryffindor’s chest to grip his slightly uninterested length.  
  
"Easy, lovely. I’m not going to hurt you, I promise."  
  
Harry’s body relaxed slightly, but his worried green eyes never left Draco’s. Draco gave Harry’s cock a few firm strokes, eliciting a startled gasp from the smaller boy.  
  
"Do that again," Harry gasped breathlessly.   
  
Smirking, Draco gave him a couple more strokes. With a wink at Harry’s dilated gaze, the blond lowered his head so close to Harry’s cock that the Gryffindor could feel hot breath on the head. His cock gave a little twitch that caused Draco to chuckle. Harry’s subsequent moan stuck in his throat as Draco descended and swallowed Harry in one fluid motion. Harry made a strangled noise as he thrust his hips upward and came violently down Draco’s throat.  
  
"I’m sorry!" Harry cried, curling into himself. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I came too soon and I wasn't supposed. I'm not allowed to come. I'm dirty disgusting – I'm a disgusting little boy I'm . . . " he kept repeating these things as he seemed to revert back into the abused little boy that showed himself in detention.  
  
"Harry," Draco spoke softly, pulling Harry’s hands away from his face, "you did nothing wrong."  
  
Startled green eyes stared back at him.  
  
"You’ve never had a blowjob before, have you?"   
  
"No," Harry replied quietly, shaking his head.  
  
"Do you feel okay?" Draco asked, settling on his side next to the Gryffindor and pulling the duvet up over the boy’s naked form.  
  
"Yes. I’m sorry I came too soon," Harry answered, looking up with wide eyes.  
  
"It’s normal," Draco soothed, smoothing the damp fringe out of Harry’s eyes. "Nobody has ever done that for you before and your body reacted very quickly."   
  
Placing a soft kiss on Harry’s forehead, Draco slid underneath the duvet and curled up next to him.

 

\---

 

Harry woke up a few hours later freezing. Looking to his left, he saw that Draco had managed to roll himself inside the blankets with only a tuft of blond hair sticking out the top. Harry slid out of bed, hissing when his bare feet touched the cold floor.   
  
As he was pulling on his trousers, the door knob jiggled and he froze. The jiggling continued for a moment before the visitor started banging loudly on the door.  
  
“Malfoy! Open this door! _Alohamora!_ This is my room too!”  
  
Draco rolled over and glared at the door through sleepy eyes.  
  
“Bugger off, Blaise!” He shouted, pulling the duvet over his head. “I was asleep.”  
  
Though the exchange, Harry had managed to dress himself silently in record time.  
  
“Draco,” he whispered, sitting down on the bed. Reaching a hand out, he gently shook the blond.  
  
“Wassamatter?” Draco said, sitting upright in bed. His normally sleek tresses were standing in every direction. Harry had to stifle a laugh.  
  
“Blaise is outside.”  
  
“So?” Draco shrugged and lay back down, curling around Harry’s hip.  
  
“So you need to get up.” The Gryffindor vanished the warm bed sheets covering Draco’s lithe body. “I need to get out of here before Blaise sees me.”  
  
Draco sat up in bed again.   
  
“Sod. Blaise,” he stated emphatically.   
  
The banging on the door ensued again.  
  
“Malfoy, let me in, or I’ll tell all the Slytherins about your dirty little fantasy involving-”  
  
Draco flicked his wand lazily and the door flew open with a bang to reveal Blaise standing there, an angry look on his dark features.   
  
“Were you to busy buggering your little lion to answer the bloody door?” Blaise huffed, ignoring Harry as he stalked over to his own bed.  
  
Draco’s only response was a two-finger salute.  
  
“I should go,” Harry said, inching towards the door.  
  
“Don’t let that wanker bother you,” Draco insisted, nodding his head in Blaise’s direction. He stood up, folding Harry in his arms. “I love you, Harry Potter,” he whispered in the Gryffindor’s ear.  


\---  
  
Harry spent the rest of the day with his head in the clouds. He went back to Gryffindor, grabbed his shower things, and headed to the Prefect's Bathroom for a long soak. Since Ron and Hermione were Prefects, they shared the password with him to allow him some privacy – everyone knew he needed it.   


Closing the door and locking it – a step that would ensure privacy – he stripped down and folded his clothes, placing his glasses carefully on top of the pile. He turned several of the taps, sighing as he sank down into pink-bubbled water that smelled like flowers. The mermaid on the wall gave a soft giggle, but Harry just ignored her.

 

He soaked in the wonderful charmed water, which stayed warm for the entire hour he spent in the bathroom. When he was finished, he vanished the water from the bathtub and reached out blindly for a towel and securing it around his waist.  
  
“Fancy meeting you here, Potter.”  
  
Harry’s head shot up and his stomach sank. He knew he wasn't supposed to be in the Prefect's Bathroom, but he locked the door. Nobody else should be there. He scrambled to his pile of clothes, looking desperately for his glasses, while trying to keep the towel around his waist.  
  
“Looking for these?”   
  
From what he could see, his glasses dangled from two blurry fingers.  
  
“Give me my glasses,” he demanded, standing up.  
  
“Sorry, Potty.”  
  
His glasses dropped to the marble floor and a sickening crunch echoed through the room.  
  
“I can’t have you recognizing me.” The person took a step backwards. “A word of warning: stay away from Draco or your glasses won’t be the only thing broken next time.”  
  
A slight glimpse of dark hair was all Harry saw before the intruder walked out of the bathroom, boot heels clicking in the wake.


	6. Chapter 6

After the episode in the Prefect's Bathroom, Harry was extremely jumpy around everyone. He nearly leapt out of his skin when Draco caught up to him while he was walking towards his dorm after dinner the next evening.  
  
"A little nervous tonight, yeah?" Draco remarked as he pulled Harry into an empty classroom. "I know you have plans with Ron tonight, but I just had to see you," he said, burying his face in Harry’s shoulder.  
  
"I- yeah," Harry uneasily patted Draco on the back.  
  
"Is something wrong?" the blond boy asked, lifting his head.  
  
Harry’s eyes flitted up to Draco’s and away with an uneasy look on his face. "Someone was in the Prefect's Bathroom when I was in there today."  
  
Draco stood up, furring his brow; he said nothing.  
  
"I don’t know who it was," Harry added quickly, "but they said something to me and broke my glasses." He pointed to the hasty _repairo_ holding his lenses together crookedly.  
  
"What did this person say?" Draco asked, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
Harry shuffled his feet, shoving his hand deep in his pockets.  
  
"He – she – I don't know – wanted me to stay away from you or else."  
  
Draco’s eyes narrowed. "Or else what?"

  
"I don't know," Harry finished quietly.  
  
Draco pulled his boyfriend into a fierce hug. Carding a hand through the dark locks, he settled his chin on top of them.  
  
"Nobody is going to take you away from me," Draco soothed. "I promise."  
  
Harry lifted his head from Draco’s shoulder. "I am so bloody frightened, Draco."

  
"Let’s go see Madame Pomfrey," Draco said, grabbing Harry’s hand.  
  
"Draco, Pomfrey isn’t going to save me from some git making threats."  
  
"No," Draco shrugged, shaking his head, "but she’s got some wicked sleeping potions."  
  
\---  


After a twenty-minute struggle, Harry finally relented when Draco promised him another blow job. With red cheeks, Harry meekly followed the Slytherin to the hospital wing.   
  
"Potter and Malfoy. What seems to be the trouble today," Madame Pomfrey asked over the rim of her glasses, hands on her hips.  
  
"Harry needs something to help him sleep."  
  
Draco pressed Harry forward, but not hard enough to hurt him.  


"And what would be the reason for this sleeping potion?"

 

"My back hurts," Harry cut in before Draco would have a chance to fabricate a lie.

  
Madame Pomfrey gave them both a sharp look, but disappeared into a closet for a moment before returning with a smoking vial of magenta liquid.   
  
"This acts quickly," Pomfrey said, handing it to Harry, "so take it before bed."  
  
Draco rolled his eyes. "Take it now," he said, tipping the vial into Harry’s mouth.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy!" Pomfrey exclaimed as Harry fell limp in Draco’s arms.  
  
Draco picked up the limp boy and laid him down on a free bed. Returning to Pomfrey’s livid gaze, he raised a hand before she could speak.  
  
"I wanted to talk to you and he had to be asleep first."  
  
"Mr. Malfoy, drugging your," she paused, searching for the word.  
  
"Boyfriend," Draco interjected.   
  
Pomfrey raised an eyebrow. "Drugging Mr. Potter is not the way to go about these things."  
  
Draco crossed the room to Harry’s side again. "Not even in cases like this?"   
  
Raising Harry’s sleeve, Draco showed Pomfrey the numerous scars shredding his arm. The medi-witch gasped, running her fingertips over Harry’s arm.  
  
"How long has he been doing this?"  
  
"Since he was nine," Draco answered, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
"I’ve got to tell Professor Dumbledore," Pomfrey said in a worried tone, heading towards her office.  
  
"You can’t," Draco grabbed her arm to stop her. "Harry will never trust me again and he’ll never get help."  
  
Pomfrey considered this for a moment.  
  
"Fine. But if this doesn’t stop or," she continued her lecture until Draco thought he was going to fall asleep.  
  
"I get the point," he said, his voice full of exhaustion.   
  
"You’re testing my limits, Malfoy," Pomfrey answered, giving him a look. She pulled the other sleeve of Harry’s jumper up to compare the damaged appendages.  
  
"It’s not these scars I’m worried about," she said finally. "It’s the ones in here." With the last statement, she placed a motherly hand palm-down on Harry’s forehead.   
  
Draco swallowed a few times as a lump began to form in his throat.  
  
"I was afraid you would say that."  
  
"Mr. Malfoy," Pomfrey sighed, turning to the blond boy, "the only thing I can do is give Harry medicinal potions. He’s going to have to work through the rest himself."  
  
Draco nodded in dismay.  
  
"Can I take him back to his dorm?"  
  
"Yes." the medi-witch handed him a note. "Take this in case you run into any professors."  
  
Draco shoved the note into his pocket before gathering the sleeping Gryffindor in his arms. As he walked toward the door, Madame Pomfrey called his name once more.  
  
Draco looked over his shoulder.  
  
"If you ever need to talk- about anything- I’ll be here."  
  
Draco gave her a genuine smile.  
  
"Thank you," he said, walking out the door.

 

\---  
  
The walk back to his dorm felt like it took days. Draco took the long way through unused hallways to avoid anyone else that might be lingering. He kicked Blaise out of the room, ignoring the protests of the other boy. Laying Harry down on the bed gently, he crawled in beside him and curled up, falling asleep.  
  
Harry woke up the next morning – thankfully Saturday. Draco was curled around his waist, using the Gryffindor’s swelling stomach as a pillow. Very carefully, Harry tried to switch his body with a pillow so as not to wake the sleeping blond. The action did not go unnoticed by Draco, who opened his sleepy grey eyes and looked up at Harry.  
  
"Trying to make a run for it, are you?"  
  
"Something like that," Harry chided, settling back against the pillows.  
  
Draco sighed contently and nuzzled Harry’s stomach, causing the Gryffindor the laugh.  
  
"Stop that, I’m ticklish," he said, sliding a hand through Draco’s hair to stop him. "Draco, why did you give me the sleeping potion in the hospital wing?"  
  
Draco slid a hand up underneath Harry’s shirt and stroked the soft skin he found there.  
  
"You needed some rest and you got some." Sliding his hand out of Harry’s shirt, he placed it on the brunette’s chest and rested his chin on the back of his hand.  
  
Harry raised his eyebrows. "I guess Jamie is going to have a mother after all."  
  
"Hey!" Draco sat up, crossing his arms over his chest. "Are you trying to say I’m feminine?" he squeaked indignantly.  
  
"Of course not," Harry soothed, stroking his knuckles down Draco’s cheek. "You’re motherly."  
  
Draco glared, but said nothing.  
  
"If it’s any better, you’re bloody gorgeous when you get mad."  
  
Draco raised his eyebrows. "I’m bloody gorgeous all the time."  
  
Harry started laughing uncontrollably. "You are such an arrogant ponce!" he said between breaths.  
  
Draco pursed his lips and shrugged. "It’s not my fault I’m better than you, Potter."  
  
Harry stopped laughing and gave Draco a look.  
  
This time, the Slytherin burst into chuckles. "You know I’m just kidding."  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. "You’re still an arrogant ponce."  
  
"I’ll show you who’s a ponce, Potter," Draco challenged, raising his eyebrows suggestively.  
  
A light blush tinted Harry’s cheeks at the innuendo. "Is that a threat?" he asked, desperately trying to sound sultry.  
  
"What if it is?" Draco countered, pressing Harry’s shoulders into the bed.  
  
"I’m speechless," Harry mouthed as he felt the heat pool in his groin.  
  
Draco pressed himself down into Harry’s body.  
  
"Draco, get off me," Harry said weakly, his eyes flicking in all different directions.  
  
Draco smiled, running a hand down the brunette’s cheek.  
  
"You don’t mean that," he countered softly.   
  
"I’m serious!" Harry’s tone rose as he pressed his palms into Draco’s shoulders. "Draco, get off me!"   
  
When the blond made no move, Harry started to beat at Draco’s arms. "Get off me! Get off me!" he cried hysterically.  
  
Surprised, Draco pulled himself off the frightened boy.  
  
"Did I do something wrong?" he asked.  
  
"No," Harry replied, pulling his knees to his chest. "Just don’t," he paused. "Corner me like that." He cast his eyes downward as he felt the tears start to well up.  
  
"Harry," Draco lifted his chin with his knuckles. "You know I would never hurt you, yeah?"  
  
"I know. I know!" He threw his hands up in frustration. "All I ever want is for you to touch me but I can’t bloody stand it when you do!"  
  
"It’s not your fault," Draco said sincerely, looking into his boyfriend’s green eyes.  
  
"I know," Harry sighed and looked down at his wristwatch.   
  
"Shite!" he cried, jumping up. "Shit! Bloody sodding shite!"  
  
"Harry, what’s wrong?" Draco asked, pulling on the Gryffindor’s shirtsleeve.  
  
"I was supposed to meet Ron fifteen ruddy minutes ago!" Harry moaned, tripping over his trainers as he struggled back into them. A brief kiss and a muffled farewell was all Draco got before Harry launched himself out the door.

 

\---

 

Down by the lake, Ron was impatiently checking his watch every few minutes when Harry came barrelling down the hill towards him.  
  
“Oi, Mate, what took you so long? It’s half six already, it is.”  
  
“Sorry, Ron.” Harry said between breaths. He held both arms over his head, one bent at the elbow, gripping the other as he tried to catch his breath. “Draco and I got caught up.”  
  
Ron eyed him suspiciously. “Caught up, eh?”  
  
Harry glanced down at his wrinkled clothes. He at least had the decency to blush and fiddle with his wrinkled jumper. “Draco gave me a sleeping potion. I just woke up.”  
  
Ron’s eyes narrowed. “He has a knack for force-feeding you potions.” The redhead’s reply was full of menace.  
  
“I’m sorry I'm late,” Harry said through pursed lips. “But I will be going now.”  
  
“Harry, wait!” Ron called out before Harry could get up the hill.  
  
The brunette stopped and looked over his shoulder.  
  
“He’s manipulating you. The first step is getting you away from your mates.”  
  
“The only one being manipulative is you, Ron. Draco never gave me an ultimatum about my mates.” When Ron stood there looking like a fish out of water, Harry added, “I missed breakfast, so I’ll be in the kitchens with Dobby if you need me.”  
  
Ron waited fifteen minutes before he met Harry in the kitchens. After watching the brunette gulp down a bowl of soup, two baked potatoes, and a ham sandwich piled with lettuce, jelly, mayonnaise, kidney beans and Swiss cheese, Ron cleared his throat nervously.  
  
“A bit hungry, eh mate?”  
  
Harry nodded sheepishly and swallowed his bite. He took a swig of pumpkin juice before answering. “I haven’t eaten all day and I’m positively famished.”  
  
Ron took a seat next to Harry, eyeing the sandwich in the smaller boy’s hands dubiously. He watched Harry inhale the sandwich in two more bites and tuck into a slice of pie smothered in hot sauce.   
  
“If you don’t slow down, you’re going to give yourself a stomach ache.” Ron chided.  
  
“Why do you bloody care?” Harry asked, suddenly rounding on him.  
  
With a shocked look on his face, Ron slid farther back on the bench. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to take the Mickey out of you.”  
  
“No, I’m sorry.” Harry sighed and pushed the plate of pie away from himself. “My moods have just been absolutely barmy lately. One minute I’m laughing and getting on great. The next I’m crying my eyes out.”  
  
“How, um, how far along are you?” Ron asked nervously.  
  
“Two and a half months.” Harry answered, standing up. “Do you still want to study for our history exam?”  
  
“Not really,” Ron answered, wrinkling his nose.  
  
“Me neither,” Harry agreed, shaking his head.  
  
They walked back to Gryffindor in companionable silence.  



	7. Chapter 7

Harry and Ron both subsequently failed their exam Monday morning. Fortunately, regaining one’s best friend was more important than passing a test. They basked in each others company until lunch when Draco beckoned Harry to the Slytherin table.  
  
"The wife calls," Harry sighed dramatically.  
  
Ron chuckled lightly at the joke. "Send her my best."  
  
"Oh, I will," Harry replied with a wink. He made his way past the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables to the Slytherin table where his blond beau waited.  
  
"I thought you might want to have lunch outside today," Draco offered, taking Harry’s hand. "It’s going to be a while before we can again."  
  
"Alright." Harry followed his boyfriend through the Great Hall, out the front doors and into the windy afternoon.  
  
As they walked to their favourite spot by the lake, Harry pulled his robes tight around his neck. He hadn’t anticipated the weather to be so chilly or he would have run to his dorm for a cloak. When Draco saw Harry shivering, he pulled his scarf off and wound it around the Gryffindor's neck.  
  
"Thank you," Harry said, inhaling deeply the scent of vanilla and Draco.  
  
"You look good in green," Draco said appreciatively, running a hand down Harry’s chest over the soft scarf. "It brings out your eyes."  
  
"Too bad I wasn’t sorted into Slytherin, yeah?"  
  
Draco stopped walking and raked his eyes down Harry’s body appraisingly. "There’s just one problem with that."  
  
Harry had stopped as well. "What would that be?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.  
  
Draco smirked before grabbing a handful of scarf and pulling Harry’s body against his own. "I don’t like to share."  
  
Looking up at Draco over the rim of his glasses, Harry flushed as his heartbeat sped up. "I wouldn't share myself with anyone but you."

  
"You're lovely, you know that?" Draco asked, cupping Harry’s cheek in his palm.  
  
Harry nodded and licked his lips nervously. "Yeah," he replied softly.   
  
"We’ve got about forty-five minutes until Potions," Draco said once he and Harry were settled with the picnic basket Draco had been hiding.  


"This is delicious," Harry said, through a mouthful of pastrami and Swiss.

 

"I thought you'd enjoy it. I went down to the kitchens and that old house elf of my father's packed all of your favourites."

 

"Yeah," Harry said, swallowing. "Dobby tried to stop me from coming back to school in second year and ever since then he's been like a scab I just can't seem to pick off my skin. He's right helpful though."

 

"Mmm," Draco nodded, agreeing.

 

The two sat enjoying their lunch in companionable silence. It was a rare occasion that Draco managed to tear Harry away from his two best friends during the day long enough to have a private conversation. The couple revelled in the opportunity.

 

When they were finished, Draco vanished the remaining contents of their basket – basket included and sat back against a large willow tree on the edge of their blanket. "Come here, love."  
  
Harry settled himself on between Draco’s splayed knees and leaned his head back on Draco's chest. Draco slid his hands up underneath the brunette’s robes to rest in the curve of Harry’s sides, just before his hips.  
  
"Is this okay?" Draco asked, sincerely.  
  
Although he stiffened slightly, Harry nodded. "Yeah."  


"Can I move my hands lower?"   
  
"Draco we're in public," Harry said, looking around the lake nervously. Thankfully, they were alone. He nodded reluctantly, but this time he did not verbalize his consent. Draco slid his hands beneath the other boy’s trousers to rest on the firm bum, careful to keep his hands atop Harry’s pants.  
  
"How’s that?" Draco asked, rubbing his thumbs in small circles.  
  
"That’s good," Harry answered uneasily.

 

"Harry." Draco pulled one hand out of Harry’s trousers so he could turn the boy's chin to meet his eyes. "Don’t ever be ashamed of your pleasure. If this," he squeezed Harry’s bum, thrusting up his own arousal, "feels good, don’t be afraid to show it." He slid his free hand back into Harry’s trousers.  
  
"Draco?" Harry asked with wide eyes.  
  
"Yes, love?"   
  
"Can I," Harry took a breath. "Can I touch you?"

  
"You don’t have to ask," Draco replied. He pulled his hands out of Harry’s trousers once more.  
  
Harry lifted himself up onto his knees and turned around to face his boyfriend, sitting back on his heels. He gingerly slid his hands up the front of Draco’s school jumper to caress his soft flesh. The blond had done this to him many times before, but Harry hadn’t touched Draco since the night Jamie was conceived.   
  
As he traced the well-defined lines of Draco’s abdomen, Harry’s green eyes flicked upward to meet Draco’s, who were watching him with curious interest.  
  
"Why are you staring at me?" Harry asked quietly. The movement of his hands stilled.  
  
"Because you’re beautiful," Draco answered simply.  
  
Harry’s gaze shifted back down to Draco’s stomach. Instead of responding to the comment, the brunette chose to stay silent. He slid Draco’s shirt up as far as he could, revealing rose-coloured nipples atop milky white flesh. When Harry’s fingertips gently ghosted over one nipple, Draco sucked in a sharp breath.  
  
Harry jerked his hand back as though he had been burnt. "Did I hurt you?" he asked with wide fearful eyes.  
  
"No," Draco soothed, running a hand down the smaller boy’s back. "My nipples are just overly sensitive.   
  
Satisfied with the information, Harry lowered his head to Draco’s nipple and blew softly. The little nub crinkled and hardened into a point. Draco hissed, threading his fingers through the Gryffindor’s hair as the brunette repeated the action on the other.  
  
"Wow," Draco breathed.  
  
"What?" Harry asked with a grin, rolling the nubs between his fingertips.  
  
Draco’s hands closed around Harry’s wrists. "You need to stop doing that or I am going to come in my pants."  
  
Harry quirked an eyebrow.  
  
"I’m serious." As if to prove his point, Draco reached down and adjusted himself. A definite hardness made itself visible against the seam of Draco’s trousers.  
  
"Maybe I want you to," Harry said, grabbing Draco firmly, causing the blonde’s breath to catch in his throat.  
  
"Harry I really don’t," Draco stuttered as his boyfriend’s hot mouth closed over one nipple. With a strangled cry, Draco emptied himself into his pants.  
  
Harry sat back on his heels once more with wide eyes. "You weren’t lying."  
  
"No," Draco let out a harsh laugh. "No, I wasn’t."  
  
"I didn’t mean to, I mean," his brow wrinkled in concern. "I’m sorry about your pants."  
  
"It’s not big deal," Draco said, smiling. He stood up, pulling Harry up with him. " _Scourgify_ ," he whispered against Harry’s lips. "I think we need to get going – we're about to be late for Potions."  


\---

  
It took them ten minutes to gather their things and make their way to Snape’s dungeon. They were in such a rush, they forgot to enter one at a time and burst into the middle of Snape’s lecture as one. The couple froze mid-step, as they took in the occupants of the room.

 

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Potter and Malfoy. Why am I not surprised you two felt yourselves so far above the rest of us that you simply could not make it to class on time?” he asked sardonically.

 

“Professor we-” Harry started, until Draco elbowed him in the ribs.

 

“That was not a rhetorical question,” Snape replied, his eyes narrowing. “Twenty points from Gryffindor, Mister Potter, and a detention on Saturday afternoon.”

 

“Professor, it wasn’t his fault,” Draco argued.

 

Snape rounded on the blond. “Don’t even think about volunteering for another detention. Any indiscretion on your part, Mister Malfoy, will only result in the loss of points from you House. I would not wish to become the sole Slytherin excommunicated over a Gryffindor, if I were you.”

 

The muscles in Draco’s throat worked rapidly, although he had his chin held high. Without a word, he took the empty seat net to Blaise and left Harry floundering like a fish out of water in front of the entire class.

 

When the class was over, Draco hastened to pack his belongings and leave the room before anyone else. Harry didn’t even bother to wait for him. He packed his bay slowly, as everyone – including Snape – filed out, unaware that he was being watched.

 

As he stood up, he felt a glove-encased hand cover his mouth and a wand tip was pressed into his throat.

 

“One move, Potter, and I will kill you. Do you understand me?”

 

Harry nodded mutely.

 

“I want you to listen and listen well,” his attacker said, the wand never leaving its position. “Draco Malfoy is off limits to you from now on. Let him go. You are ruining his life -- that’s why he left without you. He realizes what a hazard you’ve become.”

 

Harry could only stand paralyzed with fear, and take the onslaught.

 

“Remember my warning.”

 

With a loud bang, the room filled with thick smoke that burnt Harry’s eyes and the wand, as well as his attacker, disappeared.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Draco and Harry avoided each other for the next few days. Things also seemed like they reverted to the previous year. Hermione started to come around and for all Harry knew it was because of Draco’s absence. The days dragged on in a similar fashion until mid-December. The cuts on Harry’s arms grew deeper and more numerous. Unfortunately, none of his close friends were actually close enough to realize this.

One afternoon of a particularly gruelling Potions lesson left Harry on edge. He got so careless, he didn’t even notice that it was a primarily Slytherin bathroom he stepped in when he started cutting. Luckily, the only occupant was Blaise, who merely raised an eyebrow.

"I didn’t realize you were into that kind of pleasure, Potter," the dark boy said.

Harry ignored him, stabbing at his arm viciously, while tears of frustration blurred his vision.

"Whoa, there." Blaise took a step forward, his brows knitted in concern. "Perhaps you should slow down," he said, nervously eyeing the blood that leaked down Harry’s arm.

"Get away from me, Zabini," Harry snarled, as he began to cut into his other arm.

"Potter, you really should," Blaise started, just as Harry fell to the floor. He rushed to the fallen boy when the door opened to the reveal Draco.

"What the bloody hell did you do?" the blond cried before Blaise had a chance to explain.

"Shut up and help me," Blaise snapped, gathering Harry’s dead weight in his arms. "We have to get him to the infirmary."

Wordlessly, Draco took the fragile Gryffindor from Blaise’s arms and followed him to the hospital wing.

Madame Pomfrey said nothing when the two Slytherins entered the infirmary. She motioned Draco to lay Harry on a free bed. Once the brunette was settled, she shoed the two bloody Slytherins into the waiting room with a couple cleansing charms.

Draco paced nervously while Blaise sat in one of the hard plastic chairs.

"I never should have listened to Severus," he growled.

Blaise examined his nails daintily. "He had a point."

Draco stopped pacing. "At this point, Lucius is the least of my concern. Ignoring Harry in favour of _her_ has only led us to this!" He waved a hand distractedly towards the closed door.

"In Pansy’s defence-"

"Don’t you dare defend that bitch in front of me," Draco warned, rounding on the darker boy.

Blaise held his palms up in front of himself. "I’m just trying to help. That’s all Severus was doing."

Draco sat back down, but the sulking look never left his face. "Like I said: Lucius is no longer my concern. He may have betrothed me to Pig-face, but that won’t hold up in court. I don’t need his inheritance or his bloody name!" Draco shouted, turning himself red with effort.

Blaise yawned. "Oh, is the tirade over?" he asked, opening his eyes.

Draco's eyes narrowed.

"Calm down drama queen. As your best mate, I reserve the right to taunt you at your worst."

"This is a new low Blaise, even for you."

"I don’t have to like him-- I just have to put up with him," Blaise answered, shrugging.

Before Draco could reply, Madame Pomfrey appeared in the doorway. "You can see him now, Mister Malfoy."

As Draco stood up, Blaise raised an ebony eyebrow in question. Draco silently shook his head in response.

Draco re-entered the infirmary with much more trepidation than he had the previous time. Harry’s bed was curtained off and the only sound Draco could hear form behind the partition was the steady beep that ensured Harry’s heart was still beating.

"He has lost a lot of blood," the nurse said softly, as Draco pulled back the curtain.

Harry was much paler than his usual bronze tan. He looked like he was just going to fade into the pale white sheets beneath him. Thick gauze bandages covered both of his arms from wrist to elbow. His school robes were gone, having been replaced with a stark white hospital gown.

Draco gently smoothed the fringe back form Harry’s forehead. "How long does he have to stay in here?"

"As long as he’s up to it, he will be able to have dinner in the Great Hall this evening."

 

"Do you have to tell Professor Dumbledore?" he asked his voice full of trepidation.

After a long pause, Madame Pomfrey shook her head. "I am held to the Healer Code of Ethics which forbids me from sharing confidential information about my patients. At times this is much unfortunate." She heaved a great sigh. "Nevertheless, to answer your question, no, I will not be telling Professor Dumbledore."

Draco nodded and pulled a chair up next to the bed. Taking Harry’ small hand in his own, he placed a soft kiss on the knuckles. "Oh Harry, what have I done to you?"

\---

Harry woke up just before dinner started. He looked down to find Draco fast asleep in his chair, with his cheek resting on Harry’s thigh. Their fingers were still intertwined. Harry’s lips tilted upward as he watched Draco sleep.

With a slight sigh, Draco opened his grey eyes and smiled back at his boyfriend. "You’re awake," he said, his voice heavy with sleep. He sat up, stretching his arms over his head.

"I just woke up," Harry replied. His voice was scratchy from lack of use.

Without being asked, Draco poured a glass of water from the pitcher next to the bed and handed it to Harry.

"Thanks." A whisper was all the Gryffindor could manage as he took the glass. Once he had his fill, Draco helped him settle upright against his pillows and gingerly placed his glasses on his face. Harry looked down at the bandages on his arms. "I wasn’t trying to kill myself," he said without looking at Draco.

"I know."

"Someone's stalking me, Draco," Harry said, with a heavy sigh, turning towards the blond.

"What?" Draco asked in disbelief.

"Someone's stalking me," Harry repeated.

"No, I heard that," Draco waved a hand distractedly. "I mean, who is it?"

Harry fidgeted with his bed sheets.

"Harry," Draco warned.

"I don’t know," Harry said finally. "But I know it’s the same person who cornered me after Potions."

"After Potions? When?"

Harry shrugged. "The day you stopped talking to me."

Draco bit back a pang of guilt. "Harry, I’m sorry."

"Don’t be," Harry said, simply. "You didn’t do this," he gestured to the bandages covering his forearms.

"What pushed you to it this time?" Draco asked, sliding the top of his index finger down the length of the bandage nearest him gently.

"Stress." Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I told you I’m supposed to be in therapy."

"Do you want to be?"

"What?"

"Do you want to be in therapy?" Draco repeated.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "What are you trying to say?"

Draco raised his hands defensively. "It was just a question, honest."

"What do you think?" Harry asked in a surly tone.

Draco gave him a look. "I’m trying to help, you git. And I might have a solution. Someone owes me a favour."

\---

Later that night, Harry and Draco were once again lying in Draco’s generous bed. Harry was propped up on a mountain of pillows to quiet Draco’s concerns. When Draco explained his idea, Harry’s response was an immediate, "No."

"He knows what he’s doing," Draco protested.

"No," Harry repeated. "I don’t trust that man."

"I trust him. Does that count for anything?"

"No. He’s hated me since I was born."

"He didn’t even know you until five years ago!"

"He didn’t have to!" Harry shook his head. "He hated my father. He hates me. I’m the last person he would be willing to help."

"Honey, he doesn’t even _know_ you." Draco ran a hand up Harry’s shin from his place at the brunette’s feet.

"He doesn't want to. And that doesn't change the fact that he still hates me," Harry grumbled.

"He’s my Godfather. If I love you, he has no choice but to come around."

Harry said nothing. He snuggled down into the soft duvet rolling over on his side. "I don’t want to talk about him any more."

Draco lay down as well, facing the smaller boy. "We don’t have to."

Harry looked up at the blond boy with imploring eyes. "Draco?"

"Yes, love?"

"I’m hungry."

Draco stifled a groan. "We just ate."

"Please," Harry whined, batting his dark eyelashes.

With a loud sigh, Draco stood up and headed out the door. He returned a few minutes later with Harry’s concoction du jour. It was a bowl of pudding topped with barbeque sauce, cranberries and sour cream. Draco had to avert his eyes when Harry happily downed the foul mixture.

"Do you want a bite?" Harry asked, holding out his spoon.

Draco eyed the utensil dubiously. "I’m full from dinner."

Harry shrugged. "More for me," he said, happily plopping the pudding into his mouth. Before he was even finished, Harry put the spoon back in the bowl and Draco could see the muscles in his throat working.

"Harry?" Draco asked, placing a hand on the Gryffindor’s arm.

Harry shoved the bowl and spoon into Draco’s hand and bolted for the loo.

As he placed the half-finished confection on the nightstand, Draco could hear Harry retching in the background. Soon after, the Gryffindor appeared in the doorway looking flushed.

"I feel like shite," he moaned, leaning against the doorjamb and clutching his stomach.

"Come here," Draco said, holding out his arms.

Crossing the room, Harry curled himself into a ball on Draco’s lap.

"Are you going to lose your stomach again?" Draco asked, carding a hand through the Gryffindor’s dark locks.

"No." Harry’s reply muffled against Draco’s school jumper.

Reaching down, Draco pulled Harry’s glasses off and set them on the nightstand along with the leftover pudding. A sharp knock on the door resounded though the silent room.

"Draco, you two better not be starkers in there because we’re coming in!"

Harry, too sick to move, pulled Draco’s duvet up over himself and half of Draco.

The door opened and Blaise entered the room, dragging his boyfriend with him. "Shite, Draco, if he’s giving you head, you could have at least warned us."

Draco’s duvet flipped down to reveal Harry glaring daggers. "For your information," he stopped when he saw Blaise’s companion. "Seamus?" he croaked. "What are you doing here?"

The Irishman looked from Blaise to Harry sheepishly. "I’ve been seeing Blaise for about a month now."

Harry closed his unfocused green eyes. "Okay," he replied, pulling the duvet up over his head once more.

 _What’s wrong with him?_ Blaise mouthed to Draco.

 _He’s sick_ , the blond replied silently.

"I guess we’ll leave you two alone," Seamus said, inching towards the door.

Blaise gave Draco an apologetic look. "I’ll see you later, mate," he said, before closing the door softly behind them.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Next morning, a Gryffindor second year approached Harry while he and Ron were on their way to their first class.

"Excuse me, Harry," the boy said, tugging on Harry’s sleeve.

"Yes?" Harry stopped to talk to the messenger.

"Professor Dumbledore wants to see you in his office."

"Did he say why?" Harry asked, sharing a nervous glance with Ron.

"No," the boy replied, shaking his head. "The password is acid pops."

"Do you want me to go with you?" Ron asked.

Harry shook his head. "McGonagall will have our heads if we’re both late."

"Good luck, mate," Ron said solemnly, patting Harry’s shoulder. With a last look, he disappeared into the crowd.

Harry walked slowly to the Headmaster’s office. His feet dragged with every step. He didn't want to image why Dumbledore could be summoning him, but he couldn't help but think of the many reasons for the meeting. On the top of the list were his pregnancy, his new relationship with Draco, oh and the stalker who kept managing to find his way into Harry's personal space.

"Acid pops," Harry sighed to the stone gargoyle in front of Dumbledore's office.

The charmed guardian jumped to life, moving aside so Harry could step onto the moving staircase. As he glided upwards, the apprehension in his chest mounted. When he got to the top of the staircase, the door was already open, Dumbledore at his desk.

"Harry, my boy," the headmaster said jovially. "Have a seat."

Trying to hide his fear, Harry gingerly took a seat in the over-stuffed purple chair the older wizard had conjured for him.

"Lemon drop?"

Harry politely declined.

"Harry, do you know why I’ve asked you here this time?"

Harry pulled the sleeves of his robe lower self-consciously. "No, sir."

Dumbledore nodded sagely. "It has come to my attention that you were taken to the infirmary with very serious injuries yesterday."

Harry opened his mouth to speak.

"Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Zabini have not been blamed for the incident." Dumbledore leaned forward on the desk. "I would like, however, for you to tell me who is actually responsible for the wounds you sustained."

Harry looked down at his lap. "I don’t remember, Sir," he answered quietly.

Dumbledore studied him for a moment. "Very well, then. To ensure you haven’t been attacked any further, you will be assigned a guardian of sorts."

Harry looked up quickly. "A guardian, Sir?"

"Please come in, Mr. Rhyahni."

Harry looked over his shoulder as the door to Dumbledore’s office opened. A tall Ravenclaw boy stood there, confidence exuding from him. He was even taller than Draco’s exceptional stature. His hair was the colour of chestnuts, falling in slight curls into his dark brown eyes.

"Hi," he said, extending his hand, "I’m Christopher Rhyahni, Ravenclaw 7th year Prefect."

"Harry Potter. But I guess you already knew that." Harry shook his hand slowly. "Nice to meet you, Christopher."

The Ravenclaw smiled. "You can call me Rhy. I hate my first name."

"You can call me Harry. It’s the only name I have that belongs solely to me."

"Harry it is, then," Rhy acknowledged with a grin.

"Christopher," Dumbledore interjected. "Could you show Harry to your meeting place and outline the rules I gave you?"

"Of course, Professor."

Rhy looked at Harry once more. "Shall we?" He gestured to the doorway.

With a wary glance at Dumbledore, Harry stood up. "Sure."

He followed Rhy out the door and down the stairs.

"So how long have you and Malfoy been together?" Rhy asked, turning his dark eyes on Harry.

"His name is Draco," the Gryffindor snapped without thinking. "Three months," he added in a softer tone.

Rhy hummed in response.

"Are you seeing anyone?" Harry asked conversationally.

"No," Rhy shook his head. "My ex-boyfriend graduated last year. He broke it off because he felt like it was just a school fling."

"Did you love him?"

Rhy didn't answer.

"We’re here." The Ravenclaw stopped in front of a familiar door. "Pine fresh," he said, and the door swung open. "Welcome to the Prefect’s Bathroom."

Harry tried to act surprised. "This place is huge," he said, turning to Rhy. "But what are we doing here?"

A serious look crossed the Ravenclaw’s features. "This is our meeting place, Harry."

Harry nodded. "Okay. That’s all Dumbledore told me. Why are we meeting here?"

Shifting nervously from foot to foot, Rhy avoided Harry’s eyes. "Dumbledore knows, Harry."

Harry’s heartbeat sped up. "Knows what?" he asked, feigning innocence.

"He knows you cut yourself," Rhy said, looking up.

Harry gulped audibly. "Who told him?" His voice was barely over a whisper in an attempt to conceal the emotion in his voice.

"Nobody did. He saw you cutting yourself last week."

Harry’s heart sank. "Why didn’t he confront me _then_?" he asked, his voice breaking.

Fortunately, Rhy remained calm. "It wasn’t his jurisdiction until you ended up in the infirmary. So now you either have to meet with me or Dumbledore has to send you to St. Mungos."

"I don’t want to be sent away," Harry said, with wide, fearful eyes.

"You won’t be." Rhy placed a comforting hand on Harry shoulder.

Harry shrugged the hand off. "What do I have to do?"

"You have to meet me here twice a day so I can make sure you’re not cutting yourself."

"And if I am?" Harry’s throat constricted as though there was not enough air in the room.

"Then I have to report you to Dumbledore," Rhy answered, softly.

Harry nodded as he tried to hold back the tears in his eyes. "Can I go now?"

"Yes." Rhy paused. "Meet me here tomorrow morning after breakfast."

"Okay," Harry responded before bolting out the bathroom door.

Harry skidded into the first bathroom he found and retched until his stomach hurt. He hauled himself up on shaky legs and steadied his weight on the sink. Looking at his own reflection in the mirror, he sighed deeply. There were bags under his eyes. Sleep had eluded him for the last week. The new turn of events didn’t help his situation any either.

"I’m bloody pathetic," he told his reflection.

He turned on the tap and let the water run cold. As he lowered his face into the spray, a hand fisted in his hair and pressed him deeper into the sink so he nearly couldn’t breathe.

"If I have to tell you one more time, Potter, the results are going to be disastrous," the eerily familiar voice growled in his ear. "Draco Malfoy belongs to me."

Harry gasped and sputtered under the spigot in response. His attacker thrust something into his hand and then disappeared. Harry pulled himself up, panting and gasping for breath. In his hand was a photograph. His glasses had fallen off somewhere between the vomiting and the near drowning and it was hard to see.

He squinted at the picture, trying to make out the image. Draco was clearly the centrepiece. However, Draco’s face didn’t bother Harry. The dark-haired girl his boyfriend was snogging sent Harry over the edge. He let out a cry of anguish and ripped the photo in half.

Unsatisfied, he ripped it again and once again. He kept ripping until there was nothing left but shred of paper surrounding him on the wet floor of the loo. With a frustrated growl, he slammed his fist into the stone floor. A rush of pure adrenaline flew though his body and Harry fed on it.

He threw his fist into the floor until his hand was nearly unrecognizable. He sat for a moment and caught his breath as the pain flowed over him. Harry soaked it in like a drug.

A quick mental once-over assured him his hand was indeed broken. Grabbing a few towels, he wrapped his hand hastily and walked calmly out of the bathroom.

"Harry! Where have you been?" Ron asked when he found Harry waiting in the entrance hall for him.

"After my meeting with Dumbledore, I was on my way here when I tripped over my own two feet and slammed my fist into a suit of armour," Harry lied, showing Ron his bloody hand.

Ron grimaced. "Let’s get you to Madame Pomfrey before Herbology." Ron lowered his voice, "With any luck, you’ll get out of that ruddy class for the day. Bloody useless, it is."

Harry forced a laugh. "We can only hope."

Harry indeed got out of Herbology that day. He also got out of writing in his afternoon classes, even though he still had to attend them. Ron stayed by his side like the best mate he was.

"I’m glad there aren’t any more secrets between us, Harry," Ron said, on the way to dinner.

"Me too," Harry agreed, although he was cringing on the inside.

Taking his usual seat, he quickly scanned the Slytherin table for his tow-headed boyfriend. When he spotted Draco, Harry relaxed and settled into his seat. Looking down at his plate, he found a note bearing his first name. Harry quickly checked either side of himself to ensure nobody else had seen the note. He slipped his hands under the table to discreetly unfold and read the note.

_Harry,_

_Come to my room tonight at seven. I kicked my roommate out, so we have the place to ourselves._

_Love, D_

Looking up, Harry saw Draco staring at him. He nodded. Draco grinned broadly and mouthed, _I love you._ Harry just smiled and turned his attention back to his dinner.

\---

That night, Harry left Ron in the common room with an excuse about promising to visit Dobby. He donned his invisibility cloak and hurried to the Slytherin dungeons.

Draco was waiting for him when he slipped in the door after what seemed like an eternity. Harry dropped his cloak and shoes in an undignified heap at the door. He crossed the room and sank into Draco’s waiting arms gratefully.

"I missed you," Harry sighed.

"You just saw me last night," Draco said with a laugh.

"I still missed you." Harry closed his eyes, leaning against the blonde’s chest. "My day was shite."

"What happened?" Draco asked, sliding a hand up underneath Harry’s school jumper.

"I busted my hand open, for one thing," he said, holding up the bandaged appendage.

Draco gave him a soft kiss on the bruised knuckles. "How did you do this?"

"Accident," Harry said, waving a hand dismissively. "But now Dumbledore knows I cut myself."

"What?" Draco’s tone was incredulous. "How did he find out?"

Harry tossed his free hand in the air. "Merlin knows. Rhy said-"

"Rhy?" Draco raised his eyebrows. "You’re not talking about Christopher Rhyahni, are you?"

"Yes?" Harry answered meekly, afraid of the response.

Draco sighed deeply and tilted Harry’s chin up so they could look at each other. "Harry, what were you doing with Christopher Rhyahni?" His tone was soft, but carefully controlled.

Harry wet his lips nervously. "Dumbledore assigned him as my "guardian" of sorts to make sure I’m not cutting myself."

"Are you?"

"I haven’t cut since yesterday morning," Harry answered.

"Good," Draco nodded. "The faster you stop, the faster we’ll get rid of Rhyahni."

"What’s so bad about him?" Harry asked, defensively.

"He was very nice to me today. Rhy didn’t _judge_ me for cutting myself."

Draco took a deep breath, trying to control his anger. "I’m not going to tell you to stop seeing him. Dumbledore said you have to. What I am saying, is that you need to be careful around him."

"Why?" Harry shrieked, sitting up. He threw his hands out in frustration. "What is so bad about someone who cares about me?"

"It’s not that," Draco rolled his eyes.

Harry nodded. "I know what it is," his voice was deadly calm. "I’m your personal charity case and _Malfoys don’t like to share_."

"Harry, you _know_ that’s not what I meant."

Nevertheless, the Gryffindor was already putting on his shoes. "Next time, _Draco_ ," he said the name like it left a bad taste in his mouth. "Tell me what you _mean_ instead of what you want me to hear."

The door slammed shut and Draco was left by himself with only the words and thoughts that drove Harry away to keep him company.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Draco was not pleased when Harry walked past him the next morning without saying anything. The blond quickened his pace to catch up to his boyfriend.

 

“Harry!” Draco grabbed the Gryffindor’s arm and spun him around.

 

Harry yanked his arm free. “Don’t manhandle me like you own me,” he said coldly.

 

Draco made a face. “I wanted to talk to you about last night.”

 

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” Harry answered, spinning on his heel.

 

“I’m sorry!” Draco called out. “I was only trying to protect you!”

 

Harry stopped and turned around. “Protect me? Protect me from what? From the person who keeps finding any and every opportunity that I’m alone to torture me? From the girl I saw you snogging in the photograph my stalker gave me? What is it Draco? Or are you just trying to protect me from the truth so it doesn’t hurt you?”

 

Draco’s brows furred. “What photograph are you talking about?”

 

Harry shrugged. “I ripped it up and left it in the loo. It was you snogging some girl. Don’t tell me it wasn’t because I _know_ it was you.”

 

“That was the night,” Draco inhaled sharply. “Pansy.”

 

“Pansy Parkinson.” Harry nodded. “Everyone knows you two are betrothed. I should have known. I’m just a play toy until you two graduate, get married, and have lots and lots of pureblood children, who you’ll betroth to other pureblood children and send them to Hogwarts to break hearts until they get married. It’s beautiful, really.”

 

“Harry,” Draco ran a hand through his blond hair. “You know that’s not true. I am – was – betrothed to Pansy. However, that doesn’t change anything between the two of us. I’m not going to marry her. The only person that I love is you.”

 

Harry's anger seemed to melt away in favour of hope. “Do you mean that?”

 

“Of course!”

 

“Then trust my judgment,” Harry said, pursing his lips.

 

Draco nodded as he watched Harry turn and walk away.

 

\---

           

Harry just barely made it to the Prefect’s Bathroom in time.

 

“I was starting to think you skived off.”

 

“No,” Harry said, setting down his bag. “Let’s get this over with.” He shucked off his robe and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. “Just my bandages. No new cuts.” He pulled his sleeves back down and picked up his robe.

 

“Harry, that’s not all,” Rhy said, his brows furrowing.

 

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, taking a step backward.

 

Rhy sighed. “I thought you understood yesterday.”

 

Harry’s eyes widened and he gulped, taking another step backward. “What are you talking about?” he asked.

 

Rhy also took a step backward. “I’m not going to hurt you Harry, nor am I going to touch you. But you do need to remove everything but your pants, so I can be sure you aren’t cutting yourself anywhere else.”

 

Harry held his chin up defiantly. “Is my word not good enough?”

 

“This is Dumbledore’s word, Harry,” Rhy said softly.

 

Harry wordlessly removed his robe once more. He kept his eyes trained on Rhy the entire time. When he was left in his flannel pants, he tossed his head back and stared at the ceiling. “Go for it,” he said, his tone devoid of emotion.

 

With a sigh, Rhy strode forward and began to check Harry over. True to his word, he did not lay a finger on the Gryffindor. During the inspection, he stopped when he got down to Harry’s legs.

 

“Harry, what is this?” he asked of the three long scabs down the inside of Harry’s calf.

 

Harry kept staring at the ceiling stubbornly.

 

Rhy stood up. “Harry, look at me.”

 

Harry lowered his chin to meet the Ravenclaw’s gaze.

 

“Did you think I wouldn’t see those marks?”

 

“Yes,” Harry answered with a shrug.

 

Rhy pursed his lips. “I’ll let it go this time, yeah? But next time I have to tell Dumbledore.”

 

“Do what you have to,” Harry said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can I get dressed now?”

 

“Of course,” Rhy answered, turning around.

 

Harry dressed silently. He said nothing to Rhy as he left the room and let the door slam shut behind him.

 

Draco was waiting for him as he stormed past. “Hey Golden Boy!” he called.

 

Harry spun around, eyes lit. When he saw who it was, he rushed forward, burying his face in Draco’s shoulder without an explanation.

 

“Whoa,” Draco said, wrapping his arms around the shaking Gryffindor. “What happened?” he asked, leading Harry down the hallway to a private alcove.

 

“He made me strip down, Draco,” Harry mumbled into the blond’s robes. “He saw my new cuts.” Harry looked up, as tears made tracks down his reddened cheeks.

 

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Draco swiped at the tears gently with his thumb.

 

“Don’t make me go back there,” Harry pleaded.

 

Draco closed his grey eyes tightly before opening them. “I’m going to regret this later,” he grumbled to himself. Then louder, “Do you want me to go with you tonight?”

 

“Please?” Harry asked, knitting his eyebrows.

 

“All right.” Draco smoothed the hair away from Harry’s eyes to reveal his scar. Unable to resist, Draco placed a soft kiss on the hated mark. “What class are you missing?” he asked.

 

Harry wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve. “Charms. But I’m sure Flitwick knows why I’m late.”

 

“Do you want me to walk you?” Draco asked, taking Harry’s hand.

 

“No,” Harry shook his thick mane.

 

“Okay,” Draco placed a quick kiss on Harry’s lips. “I’ll meet you outside the Great Hall after dinner.”

 

\---

 

True to his word, Draco was waiting outside when Harry emerged from dinner.

 

“I’ll be back later,” Harry told his friends.

 

Hermione gave him a look, but allowed herself to be nudged away by Ron. The bushy-haired girl kept looking back anxiously but her boyfriend reassured her.

 

When Harry and Draco got to the Prefect’s Bathroom, the Gryffindor drew in a shaky breath.

 

“Are you sure about this?’ Draco whispered.

 

“Yes,” Harry whispered back, determinedly. “Pine fresh,” he said in a bolder tone.

 

The door opened and the pair entered the room.

 

“What are you doing here, Malfoy?” Rhy asked, standing up.

 

“I’m a Prefect, Rhyahni, or did you forget because of that rapidly swelling head of yours?” Draco asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

Rhy narrowed his eyes. “You’re only here because your boyfriend has to be,” he said smugly.

 

“What reason do I have to trust **you**?” Draco scoffed.

 

Rhy stared Draco down evenly, but said nothing.

 

“Can we just get this over with?” Harry asked, stepping between the two.

 

“Of course, Harry,” Rhy said, looking over the Gryffindor’s head at Draco.

 

Once more, Harry removed his robe and jumper. As he started to undo this zip on his trousers, Draco stepped in.

 

“You’ve seen enough, Rhyahni; he hasn’t cut himself any further.”

 

“He had marks on his legs earlier.”

 

“And you let him go.”

 

“It was his first offence.”

 

“Are new marks going to make a difference?”

 

Rhy pressed his lip into a tight firm line.

 

“I didn’t think so,” Draco said menacingly. “Put your shirt on, Harry, we’re leaving.”

 

The couple walked out, leaving the Ravenclaw in stunned silence.

 

“I thought you said you hadn’t cut yourself since you landed in the infirmary. Why did you cut your legs?”

 

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. “Why did you eat breakfast this morning?”

 

Draco gave him a look.

 

“Exactly,” Harry said, “You don’t know _why_ you do it. You just know that you have to.”

 

“You cut because you think you have to?” Draco challenged.

 

“I cut because I know I have to,” Harry answered with determination in his voice.

 

“Harry if you don’t stop, you’re going to get locked away,” Draco pleaded desperately.

 

“And if I don’t cut,” Harry said, drawing himself up to his full height, “I won’t be able to take the stress, I won’t be able to deal with my demons, and they will _still_ lock me up for being mental. I don’t know about you, but if I’ve got to go, I might as well go first class. I just can’t stay as long”

 

Draco stood there as Harry shrugged his shoulders.

 

“This,” he pointed to his arms, “is not your fight.” Next, he pointed to the swell in his robes. “This is. But until the two cross, do us all a favour and stay quiet.”

 

\---

 

Draco only managed to heed Harry’s words until he watched his boyfriend follow Rhy Prefect out of the Great Hall after dinner the following night. He followed them to the Prefects Bathroom and hid behind a statue of a disgruntled looking wizard. It was his luck that Rhyahni left first this time.

 

Draco whispered the password and slipped into the Prefect’s Bathroom. Harry’s back was to him and Draco took a moment to admire the fine muscles as Harry donned his jumper. The Slytherin crept up silently behind him and wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist. Harry nearly jumped a mile and scrambled to get free. Draco let go, allowing Harry to turn around.

 

“How many times do I have to tell you not to _do_ that?” Harry cried, pulling his robes on roughly.

 

“I just wanted to talk to you before you went back to your dorm.”

 

Harry crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “Talk.”

 

Draco took a deep breath. “I’m not asking you to stop cutting – I never did. I’m just afraid that if you don’t, Rhyahni is going to turn you in to Dumbledore.”

 

“He’s bluffing,” Harry said with a shrug.

 

Draco nodded. “So I assume he’s seen this,” Draco reached for Harry’s hand and turned it palm-up, “as well?”

 

Harry glanced down at the fresh cross-hair pattern before jerking his hand back. He pulled his sleeve back over his hand, glaring daggers at his boyfriend.

 

“I didn’t think so,” he said, his tone devoid of malice.

 

“I don’t want to get caught,” Harry said, after a long silence, “but I don’t know how to stop.”

 

Draco pulled him into a tight hug. “I will fight tooth and nail if they try to take you anywhere.”

 

Harry pulled back. “Draco, why were you kissing Pansy in that photo if there’s nothing between you two?”

 

Draco gritted his teeth. “I thought we were past that.”

 

“You never told me why,” Harry challenged, raising his voice.

 

Draco blew the fringe out of his eyes. He crossed the room and sat down on a bench. “That picture was from fourth year at the Yule Ball. Pansy and I had a – thing going on back then. It wasn’t anything serious and it obviously wasn’t anything very important.”

 

Harry raised an eyebrow. “How convenient.”

 

“Oh get off of it,” Draco sneered. “I don’t know what your bloody problem is lately, but I’m right sick of you jumping all over me.”

 

Harry pursed his lips. “Fine,” he said. “I won’t ask you about your personal life anymore since it _bothers_ you so much.”

 

“That’s not what I meant,” Draco sighed.

 

“For someone who is so concerned with _me_ and _my_ problems, you sure do have a problem telling me what you’re thinking in that daft head of yours.”

 

“Harry-”

 

The Gryffindor wasn’t finished. “I want you to stay away from me, Draco Malfoy,” he said, his voice shaking. “Stay away from me, my friends,” he took a steadying breath, “and my daughter.” With a choked sob, he left the room, tears streaming from his verdant eyes.

 

This time, Draco knew better than to go after him.

 


	11. Chapter 11

Christmas holidays were fast approaching and Harry’s mood was just as bleak as ever. The scuffle with Draco the previous day left him feeling hurt and lonely. He went through the motions with Rhy silently, although he was careful to keep his fist clenched tightly.

 

“Harry, are you okay?” Rhy asked, as Harry was dressing himself.

 

“I’m fine,” was the empty reply.

 

“You know you can talk to me,” Rhy said, sitting down on the bench Draco had occupied the night before.

 

“I said I’m fine.” Harry straightened himself to look at the Ravenclaw.

 

Rhy nodded docilely. He took a deep breath. “Would you like to get a butterbeer with me on Saturday since it’s the last Hogsmeade weekend before the hols?”

 

Harry had to keep his jaw from falling open. “I, um,” he paused, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “Sure, I guess.”

 

Rhy beamed. “Brilliant. I’ll meet you at the Three Broomsticks tomorrow at noon. Don’t worry about meeting me here.”

 

“All right.” Harry forced a smile. “Thanks, Rhy.”

 

“No problem,” Rhy answered. “I hate to cut this short, but I have to tutor some second years.” He shrugged apologetically. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Harry,” he said before disappearing out the door.

 

Harry let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He felt something wet between his fingers. Looking down, he unclenched his fist and saw that the pattern on his palm had begun to bleed again. Cursing softly, he grabbed one of the flannels off the counter. After wrapping his hand the best he could, Harry left the bathroom. He retreated to his dorm and fell asleep almost instantly.

 

\---

 

The next morning he dragged himself out of bed after everyone else had gotten up. Harry took a seat between Ron and Hermione at breakfast.

 

“Good morning, Harry,” Hermione said jovially.

 

“Hullo, Hermione,” Harry answered slowly, surprised at her sudden chipper tone.

 

“I heard Christopher Rhyahni asked you out,” she said, her smile growing.

 

Harry rolled his eyes. “He didn’t ‘ask me out’. He just asked me to get a butterbeer and I agreed. I’ve felt really stuffed up in the castle lately, so I didn’t see any harm in getting some fresh air. That’s all it is.”

 

Ron gave him a sideways look. “Did you and Malfoy break up?”

 

“No,” Harry said, without looking up from his eggs. “Why would you think that?”

 

“Because you’re going on a date with Christopher Rhyahni. What am I supposed to think?” Ron rhetorted.

 

Harry gaped at his best friend.

 

“Well, Christopher is quite the catch, Harry. I’m glad to see you’re keeping your options open,” Hermione said, ignoring them.

 

“Sure,” Harry mumbled.

 

Hermione continued to praise Rhy for the duration of breakfast, making it hard for Harry to keep eating. He also had to eat with his left hand under the table so his friends wouldn’t see the blood that kept seeping though his bandage.

 

When the meal was over, he and his friends joined the rest of the students anxious for a day in Hogsmeade. Harry spent and hour with Ron and Hermione buying sweets and laughing the way they used to, before he had to meet Rhy.

 

The other two Gryffindors left Harry at the entrance to the Three Broomsticks with words of encouragement.

 

“Just relax, Harry. Christopher is a great guy,” Hermione said.

 

Ron gave Harry a hug. He whispered, “You’ll get through it, mate. If he touches you, I’ll put my fist through his nose.”

 

Harry smiled despite himself. “Thanks, guys.” He turned, with a final wave, and walked into the dark pub. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, desperately searching the room for Rhy.

 

The Ravenclaw had seated himself at a far table, thankfully secluded from prying eyes. Harry took the seat in front of Rhy, his back to the door.

 

“I’m glad to see you came,” Rhy said beaming.

 

“No problem,” the Gryffindor replied. He dropped his hands in his lap and looked around the room. “There are a lot of people in here today,” he commented offhandedly.

 

“There sure is,” Rhy agreed. “I already ordered a butterbeer for each of us. Is that all right?”

 

“Sure,” Harry answered as Madame Rosmerta set a bottle down in front of each of them.

 

“Is that all for you, dears?” she asked.

 

“Yes, thank you,” Rhy said with a smile.

 

The barkeeper nodded and walked away, leaving the two alone.

 

Rhy took a long swig of butterbeer. “So I take it things with Malfoy aren’t going very well.”

 

Harry stopped with the bottle halfway to his lips. “What gave you that idea?” he asked, setting the butterbeer down without taking a drink.

 

“Harry,” Rhy said gently, taking the boy’s hand that was wrapped around the bottle, “you would never have agreed to meet me if things with Malfoy were going well.” As he ran his thumb across Harry’s palm, his brows crinkled. He flipped the hand over, despite Harry’s efforts to pull away. “Harry, you’re bleeding.”

 

Harry tried to mask the fear on his face, but Rhy caught it. His eyes flicked from Harry’s bloody hand to the jade eyes. “You did this.” It wasn’t a question.

 

Harry pulled his hand away and crumpled a napkin in his palm. “Are you going to turn me in now?”

 

Rhy ran a hand through his auburn locks. “I should. But I’m not going to.” He looked up at Harry and his eyes narrowed.

 

“What is it?” Harry asked. He glanced over his shoulder. Turning back to Rhy quickly, he sank down in his seat.

 

Rhy raised an eyebrow. “He doesn’t know you’re here, does he?”

 

Harry made a face. “Not that it’s any of your business, but we aren’t speaking at the moment.”

 

Rhy nodded, not taking his eyes off the blond.

 

Harry sighed deeply. “He’s walking over here, isn’t he?”

 

“Yep,” Rhy replied, flicking his eyes back to the Gryffindor in front of him.

 

“Rhyahni,” Draco said, taking no notice of the Gryffindor. “Fancy meeting you here.” He looked down at his boyfriend and his eyes widened. “Harry,” the blond said, not bothering to mask his surprise.

 

“Hello, Draco,” Harry answered quietly, looking up at the other boy.

 

“I guess I’ll leave you two,” he glanced at Rhy, “alone then.” With a final expression full of sorrow, Draco walked away from the table.

 

Harry followed the Slytherin’s movement with his eyes.

 

“Don’t worry about him,” Rhy said, breaking Harry out of his revere.

 

Harry set his elbow on the table and set his chin in the uninjured palm. “He sure does have plenty of reason to hate me now.”

 

“Because you were having a drink with another bloke? Seriously, Harry, Malfoy may be arrogant, but he isn’t daft.”

 

Their conversation continued, due to Rhy’s valiant attempt at engaging Harry through three more bottles of butterbeer. After the third bottle, Rhy decided Harry was done when he started to recount the first time he met Draco at Madame Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions.

 

The Ravenclaw led them out of the Three Broomsticks and into the rapidly darkening streets of Hogsmeade. “Did you have any other plans for today?” Rhy asked as they walked farter into the village.

 

“No,” Harry shook his head. “Did you?”

 

“No,” the taller boy replied. “I cleared my schedule to be with you all day.” The comment was sincere, but it only caused Harry to fidget nervously.

 

“We should get back for dinner.”

 

“Of course,” Rhy agreed the disappointment evident in his voice.

 

He walked Harry back up to the castle. They stopped just outside the doors to the Great Hall. “Thank you for a wonderful afternoon, Harry,” Rhy beamed, turning to the smaller boy.

 

“Sure thing,” Harry replied, shifting from foot to foot.

 

Before he knew what was coming, Rhy leaned down and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Goodnight, Harry,” he said, before turning away, unaware of the look of shock and betrayal painted on the Gryffindor’s face.

 

\---

 

The next morning when Harry had to meet with Rhy, he merely went thought the motions, removing his clothing and standing before the Ravenclaw like a statue. He put his clothing back on with the same somber expression.

 

Before Harry could escape the room, however, Rhy laid a hand on his shoulder.

 

“All right, Harry?”

 

“Sure, whatever,” the brunette answered, shrugging Rhy off.

 

“Harry.”

 

The Gryffindor stopped halfway out the door.

 

“Are you upset about the kiss yesterday?”

 

Harry kept his expression impassive. “I have a boyfriend, Rhyahni, please respect that.” He turned and walked out the door.

 

\---

 

Ron and Hermione caught up with Harry later that day when he was on his way to the Great Hall for lunch.

 

“So how did it go?” Hermione asked excitedly.

 

“Lousy,” Harry sighed, flopping down on the bench. “He kissed me.”

 

“What?” Hermione and Ron asked at the same time.

 

“Well, is he a bad kisser?” the girl asked, concern dripping from her voice.

 

“No,” Harry said slowly. “But he seems to forget that I have a boyfriend.”

 

“Malfoy?” Hermione made a face. “Why are you still hung up on that tosser?”

 

“Hermione,” Ron cut in. “They never broke up.”

 

Hermione sniffed indignantly. “Christopher is a great person, Harry. The only reason he isn’t Head Boy is that he’s doing an internship at the Ministry. He deserves a fair chance.”

 

Harry exhaled loudly into his pumpkin juice.

 

“Just one chance, Harry, that’s all he needs.”

 

“He had a chance!” Harry said, exasperatedly, throwing his hands in the air.

 

Hermione shook her head. “You’re throwing him out because he kissed you.”

 

Finally, Harry had enough. “Hermione,” he said, trying to control his temper. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Instead, he stood up, walked around Hermione, and planted a big wet kiss on Ron’s lips. He turned to Hermione once more, an angry look on his face. “How do you like it?” Without waiting for a reply, he stomped out of the Great hall, leaving his breakfast untouched.

 

Ron shrugged uncomfortably at Hermione’s glare before following his best mate. “Harry, wait up!” he called to the brunette storming down the hallway.

 

“I’m sorry I kissed you, all right?” Harry said, turning around.

 

Ron shrugged. “It’s no big deal,” he said, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve. “Just make sure you brush your teeth before you decide to kiss Malfoy.”

 

Harry smiled at the jab. “I was just trying to make a point.”

 

“Trust me, mate,” Ron said, falling in step with the other Gryffindor, “you made it.”

 

Harry smiled a real smile for once.

 

\---

 

He spent the rest of the afternoon playing chess with Ron. After dinner, the redhead walked Harry to the Prefect’s Bathroom.

 

“Don’t let him intimidate you, Harry,” Ron said. “We all know you’re stronger than that.”

 

Harry nodded his thanks before ducking into the bathroom. Without any acknowledgement of Rhy, he began to remove his jumper.

 

“Wait, Harry.”

 

The Gryffindor looked up in surprise. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

 

“No, Rhy smiled, shaking his head. “I wanted to ask you something.”

 

“Okay,” Harry replied nervously.

 

“Are you going home with Malfoy for the holidays?”

 

“No,” was the bitter reply.

 

Rhy nodded again. He stood silently for a moment. “Would you like to come home with me?”

 

Harry looked up from his undoing his tie with wide eyes. “What?”

 

Rhy let out a light-hearted laugh. “Nothing serious, Harry. I just don’t want you to be alone on Christmas.”

 

Harry finished untying his tie and pulled it off. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll be fine.”

 

Rhy nodded, trying not to appear hurt. “Of course,” he said. “Well, then let’s get this over with.”

 

The Ravenclaw took special care to examine Harry’s palm to be sure the cut was only bleeding from normal activity instead of a knife reopening the wound.

 

“Everything seems to be in order,” Rhy said finally, as Harry stood shivering in his pants. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” The taller boy left the room without another word.

 

Harry exhaled in relief. Rhy usually stayed until Harry finished dressing. It made the Gryffindor’s skin crawl to know that this man stood there and watched his body as he got dressed. He shook his head, as if to clear away the negative thoughts.

 

Ron was waiting for him in the Common Room when he got back. “All right Harry?”

 

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, plopping down on the couch. “Where’s Hermione?”

 

“Where else?” Ron shrugged. “She’s in the library studying for the exams on Friday.”

 

Harry shook his head. “We still have four full days to study.”

 

“Exactly,” Ron agreed, grinning. “Harry, I wanted to ask you a question.”

 

Harry closed his eyes and leaned his head back. “If this has anything to do with Christopher Rhyahni, I swear I will hex you.”

 

Ron made a face. “Of course it hasn’t got anything to do with him. Are you mad?”

 

“All right then,” Harry said, opening his eyes. “Go on.”

 

Ron shoved Harry’s shoulder. “I was just going to ask if you wanted to come home to the Burrow for the Christmas Hols.”

 

Harry sighed, closing his eyes once more. “Rhy just asked me the same thing.”

 

“Oh,” Ron answered quietly. “Well, then.”

 

“I’m not going home with him,” Harry said quickly, his eyes flying open.

 

“So you’re coming with us, yeah? Hermione’s staying too.”

 

Harry’s stomach lurched at the though of spending Christmas with the couple. “Actually, I think I’m going to stay here.”

 

Ron shrugged. “Well, if you change your mind, you know you’re always welcome. Mum can’t get enough of you.”

 

“I know,” Harry said. “And thanks for the offer, Ron.”

 

“Any time, mate,” Ron replied, patting Harry on the shoulder, “any time”

 


	12. Chapter 12

The week before winter break passed faster than anyone realised. Harry’s morning sickness has virtually disappeared and that in itself put him in a better mood. He still wasn’t talking to Draco, but the blond hadn’t apologised yet, either.

 

Draco kept to himself, sending pained glances to the Gryffindor across the Great Hall. He had even asked Blaise to hand Harry a note in the hallway. Without reading the parchment, Harry tossed it in the nearest rubbish bin. He made sure Blaise saw him, giving the Italian a sharp glare.

 

As Harry was bidding his friends goodbye on the front steps the last day of the term, Draco approached him.

 

“Can I have a word, Harry?” he glanced at Ron and Hermione. “Alone, please?”

 

Harry considered the request for a moment. He hugged Ron and gave Hermione a kiss on the cheek. “Go on, I’ll see you two after the break.”

 

With wary glances in Draco’s direction, the couple bid Harry goodbye and started down the stone steps. Harry crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Draco expectantly.

 

The Slytherin took a deep breath. “Harry, I’m sorry.”

 

“You seem to be saying that a lot lately,” Harry mocked.

 

“Do you want to hear what I have to say or not?” Draco asked, his tone betraying his agitation.

 

Harry said nothing.

 

“I’m sorry I tried to tell you what you should do. I was just worried about you”

 

“And?” Harry asked, raising his eyebrows.

 

“I’m also sorry for not trusting you and not listening.”

 

“Apology accepted,” Harry said, not moving from his challenging stance.

 

“I just have one question,” Draco ventured.

 

Harry lifted his chin and prepared for the worst. “What?”

 

“What were you doing with Rhyahni last weekend?” he asked softly.

 

“Oh for – We had a few butter beers at the Three Broomsticks, and then he took me back to his room and buggered me into the mattress. Is that what you want to hear?” Harry ran a hand though his hair in frustration. “Merlin!”

 

“I wasn’t attacking you,” Draco cut in. “I just asked a question.”

 

“Was the bit about buggering Rhyahni necessary?”

 

Harry rolled his eyes. He pursed his lips, looking past the blond boy. “What difference does it make? You’re going to believe only what you want to believe.”

 

“I don’t believe you slept with Rhyahni.”

 

“Well, you shouldn’t,” Harry shrugged.

 

“Harry, I told you I was sorry,” Draco sighed. “What do you want from me?”

 

“Trust,” Harry answered simply.

 

Draco nodded sagely. “I can do that.” He paused, looking over his shoulder at the carriages. “Harry,” he turned back to the Gryffindor and took his hand. “Will you come home with me?”

 

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. “What about your parents?”

 

Draco grinned. “I told my mother. She said that as long as Jamie is legally mine, there is nothing Lucius can do to keep us apart.”

 

“Draco, I can’t,” Harry said, regretfully, pulling his hand from Draco’s grasp.

 

“Why not?” Draco asked, crestfallen.

 

“I already begged off going home with Ron. There’s no way I could change my mind and go home with you.”

 

Draco let out a slow breath. “Of course.” He leaned forward and gave Harry a soft kiss. “Until we meet again, _mon amour_.”

 

\---

 

            The following three days leading to Christmas were hard for Harry. He was the only one left in Gryffindor Tower and consequently chose to take his meals from Dobby there as well. Rhy wasn’t even in the castle, which was a thankful reprieve from their daily meetings, but the Ravenclaw’s absence gave Harry one more reason to feel lonely. He had already written Draco seven letters and had not received one back. His hope in the blond had begun to fade. He didn’t take his dinner until late in the evening on Christmas Eve. Dobby had to coax the young boy into eating that night.

 

Harry sighed and looked down at the steaming plate. With a curious expression, he picked up the parchment lying in the middle of his plate.

 

_Harry,_

_Please come to the Room of Requirement tonight. There you will receive a Christmas gift you will never forget._

The note was not signed. Harry thought the proposition over as he ate his dinner. Finally, he stood up.

 

“I’m going to do it,” he said aloud to the empty room.

 

Donning his invisibility cloak, Harry set out for the Room of the Requirement. When he reached the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, there was no door in the hallway. He closed his eyes. With a deep breath, he walked back and fort in front of the wall three times.

 

“I need to meet someone here. I need you to become what you became for this person.”

 

He held his breath and opened his eyes slowly. With a deep sigh of relief, Harry strode forward and grabbed the door handle. He stepped into the room and his eyes widened in shock. The scene before him was incredible.

 

Harry had stepped into a warm cosy cabin with a roaring fire. He walked forward, and with each step reassured himself that yes, this was real and no, this was not a trick.

 

“Do you like it?” A familiar voice asked in his ear.

 

Harry spun around. His eyes grew even wider. “I thought you left!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms around the other boy.

 

Draco chuckled, holding his boyfriend close to his chest. “I convinced Severus to let me stay at the last minute. I couldn’t leave you alone for Christmas, love.”

 

“You are a work of art,” Harry chided, pulling away. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

 

“I would have. However, your stubborn arse wouldn’t come down to the Great Hall and that blasted fat lady wouldn’t let me in. I finally had to convince that old elf of my father’s to give you a note.” Draco chuckled. “For a while, I didn’t think you would even show up.”

 

Harry bit his lip. “I didn’t know who it could be, so that made me apprehensive. But my curiosity won out.”

 

Draco ran a hand down Harry’s arm. “I’m glad you’re here.” He took Harry’s hand once more. “I want to show you something.” He led Harry around the corner and Harry let out a soft gasp.

 

A fully decorated Christmas tree sat pristine next to the fireplace.

 

“Draco, it’s gorgeous!” Harry exclaimed, walking over to the tree. He stopped and turned to Draco when he saw how the tree was decorated. “It’s us,” he said softly.

 

Draco nodded.

 

Harry turned back to the tree to examine the photographs covering the blue spruce. They were all square black and white photos of the couple together.

 

“Where did you get all of these?” Harry asked, fingering one of himself leaning back against Draco’s chest. The Harry in the picture raised his head and smiled dreamily at the real Harry before laying his head back down and closing his eyes.

 

“I convinced Colin Creevy to give them to me. He’s been taking photos of us at every opportunity.”

 

“How nice,” Harry said, dryly.

 

“Now, now,” Draco said, wrapping his arms around the brunette’s waist. “The little twit has been dealt with. He won’t be bothering you anymore.”

 

“Or you,” Harry added.

 

“Or me.” Draco dropped a kiss on top of Harry’s dark locks. “Let’s worry about things other than Colin, yeah?” he suggested, leading his boyfriend to the bed that dominated the room.

 

Harry stopped short nervously. “Draco, if we’re going to do – _things_ , I would rather we did them in your room.”

 

“My room?”

 

“Yes,” Harry answered, quickly. “This is very beautiful, but I would feel more comfortable in familiar surroundings.”

 

“I’m not angry, love,” Draco soothed. “We will never do anything you aren’t ready for.”

 

\---

 

The two of them just barely fit underneath the invisibility cloak. With Draco’s arms around Harry’s waist, they managed to shuffle their way down to the dungeons. Harry breathed a sigh of relief as Draco shut the door of his room.

 

“I can’t believe Ron and Hermione used to fit under there with me!”

 

Draco grinned. “That was before Weasley shot into a walking lamp post and Granger filled her jumper.”

 

Harry nodded, looking down at himself. “The only thing I managed to grow was a belly.”

 

Draco placed a hand over the slight swell. “But I love the belly.”

 

“At least someone appreciates my fat,” Harry sighed dramatically, leaning back on Draco’s soft duvet.

 

Draco settled next to the Gryffindor on his side. “I love it.” Once again, he placed his hand over the lump. “This is my family. How could I not love it?”

 

Harry smiled despite himself. “I want you to kiss me, Draco,” he said softly.

 

Draco lifted Harry’s chin, staring into the swirling emerald eyes for approval. He moistened his lips, and never taking his eyes off Harry’s, leaned in to press his lips against the Gryffindor’s. Harry moaned into the kiss and closed his eyes. Draco did the same.

 

The blond cupped the back of Harry’s neck with his hand, rubbing his thumb against the fine hairs located there. Harry nearly purred into Draco’s mouth. Taking his cue, Draco opened his mouth wider. Harry opened his as well, allowing Draco to slide his tongue into the warm cavern.

 

They kissed deeply until Harry pulled away for want of breath. “Wow,” he said, breathing heavily.

 

Draco smiled, licking his swollen lips. “Wow, indeed.” He leaned in for another kiss, pressing Harry back against the bed.

 

The brunette’s eyes flashed open in alarm for a moment. When Draco stopped kissing him, Harry relaxed and allowed himself to be pressed into the duvet. Draco settled himself on top of his boyfriend, mindful of the baby between them. He rested his elbows on either side of Harry’s head, looking down at the boy with a crooked smile on his face.

 

“What?” Harry asked, shifting himself underneath Draco’s weight nervously.

 

“I love you,” Draco said softly.

 

“I love you, too,” Harry replied, almost too quiet for Draco to hear.

 

The blond’s throat went dry. He swallowed a few times before answering. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to say that.”

 

Harry blushed scarlet. He pulled Draco down until his lips brushed the blond’s ear. “I want you to make love to me, Draco.”

 

Draco pulled away. “Are you sure?” he asked, concern clouding his grey eyes.

 

“Yes,” Harry whispered, pulling Draco down for another kiss.

 

Draco moved his kisses from Harry’s mouth, raining them down on every inch of his boyfriend’s face. He took Harry’s scarred wrists gently in each hand, positioning them over the smaller boy’s head.

 

Harry’s breathing hitched. He looked up at Draco with wild eyes.

 

“Do you trust me?” Draco said, running his fingertips down the length of Harry’s arms and his sides.

 

“Yes,” Harry answered after a moment of hesitation.

 

Hooking his thumbs in the seam of Harry’s jumper, Draco gently slid the top over Harry’s pink nipples. He coaxed the jumper over Harry’s head and tossed it on the floor. With a content sigh, he ran his hands down the length of Harry’s unblemished torso.

 

“Could you take your jumper off as well?” Harry asked, squirming uncertainly.

 

“Of course,” Draco complied, pulling his own jumper up and over his head in one fluid movement.

 

“Whoa,” Harry said, heat instantly filling his face.

 

“Do you like what you see, Mr. Potter?” Draco smirked, running his hands sensually down the length of his own chest.

 

“Very much,” Harry said softly, ghosting his fingertips over one of Draco’s pectorals.

 

Draco caught the hand and held it over his heart. “Do you feel how fast my heart is beating? I’m just as nervous as you.”

 

Harry dragged his eyes up to Draco’s face, away from the Slytherins taut pale skin. “That only makes me feel slightly better.”

 

“Is there anything else I can do?” Draco asked, honestly.

 

“Kiss me,” Harry said, beneath lidded eyes.

 

Once again, Draco obliged his request. He kissed his way up the sensitive tissue of Harry’s neck to suck on his ear lobe.

 

“I want to make you come,” he whispered, blowing hot air on the wet appendage.

 

Harry tossed his head back and moaned, exposing the pale column of his throat to Draco’s hungry gaze.

 

Draco took his time distracting the smaller boy with his ministrations on the smooth neck while his other hand slid up Harry’s thigh. The Gryffindor didn’t notice the move until a well-manicured hand squeezed his half-erect cock.

 

“Oh, Draco,” he groaned.

 

“Yes, Harry?” Draco answered, breathing harshly into his boyfriend’s ear.

 

“I want you to. . .” he trailed off as Draco deftly unbuckled his belt and thrust his hand beneath the brunette’s trousers and pants.

 

“What was that, lover?” the blond asked as he gave Harry a few firm strokes.

 

“Iwantyoutogodownonme,” Harry choked out in one breath.

 

Draco grinned into Harry’s neck. “What was that?” he asked, squeezing the blood into Harry’s erection.

 

“You heard me,” Harry growled out through gritted teeth.

 

“I know what you want,” Draco said, nipping at Harry’s neck. He slid down the sunned chest, leaving a trail of bites and licks. As he pulled on either side of Harry’s trousers, Quidditch-calloused hands fisted in his hair.

 

“Draco, wait.”

 

Draco looked up at Harry’s frightened green eyes.

 

“What’s wrong?” the blond asked, running his hand down Harry’s cloth-covered thigh.

 

“Just,” Harry took a deep breath, “just look at me so I know it’s you.”

 

Draco nodded. “Okay.”

 

Harry sat up on his elbows so he could watch as Draco worked the trousers down his legs. Once he was left in only his white pants, Draco resumed his rubbing of Harry’s now-bare thigh.

 

“Do you want me to take my trousers off too?”

 

“No,” Harry shook his head, “It was always – He never wore trousers.”

 

“Harry, look at me,” Draco said, softly. “This is just us, yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, although his tone wasn’t very convincing.

 

“I’m going to take your pants down now, okay?”

 

Harry nodded again slowly, his eyes never leaving Draco’s grey.

 

Draco gently eased the pants down Harry’s thighs, mindful of his erection and careful not to touch it. He took one of Harry’s ankles in each hand and slid them closer to the boy’s arse, leaving him spread deliciously.

 

“You look incredible like this.”

 

Harry blushed scarlet from the top of his hairline to the tip of his swollen cock. Draco slid his hand down Harry’s inner thighs, stopping just short of the lightly furred bullocks.

 

“Is it all right if I touch you?” Draco asked, gently stroking the juncture of Harry’s hip and his thigh.

 

Harry let out a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

 

Draco smirked. His eyes never left Harry’s as he carefully ran his finger tips down the length of Harry’ arousal. Harry’s cock twitched at the contact. Wrapping his hand around the base, Draco gave the column of flesh a firm stroke upward.

 

Harry groaned. He kept his eyes riveted to the scene in front of him as Draco’s mouth descended on his leaking cock. Draco pulled himself up and allowed hi hand to continue stroking the wet cock.

 

“Are you okay?” he asked, still pumping lazily.

 

“Yes,” Harry said, drawing in a shaky breath.

 

“If you want me to stop, just say the word.”

 

“O-kay,” Harry said slowly, unable to take his eyes off of Draco.

 

Draco gave Harry a quick kiss on the lips. He placed another on the tip of Harry’s cock, before latching his mouth on the vein at the base. Harry fisted his hands in the blond hair, but didn’t tell him to stop. With great care, Draco lowered his mouth to the heavy bullocks. He took each in turn, laving them with saliva. Harry keened and the sacs drew up close to his body.

 

“Calm down,” Draco said, smoothing a hand down Harry’s stomach. “I don’t want you to come yet.”

 

Harry let out a shaky breath and fought to uncurl his toes. Kissing the inside of Harry’s kneecaps, Draco eased his way back down to the throbbing centre. He reassured the Gryffindor with his eyes before dropped his mouth back down. This time, he bypassed the bullocks completely.

 

Draco’s fist kiss landed on the rim of Harry’s entrance. The brunette visibly tensed up. Draco caught his eye. At the sight of dilated grey eyes, Harry forced himself to relax. Draco took Harry’s length in hand and began stroking in earnest before he licked a circle around the rim of Harry’s hole.

 

With his boyfriend’s attention focused solely on his hand, Draco zeroed in on Harry’s rosebud. He gave it a few quick strokes around the rim, the strokes on Harry’s cock steady and even. Once Harry stopped clenching himself and relaxed, Draco took his cue.

 

He swirled his tongue around Harry’s entrance, liberally coating it with saliva. Sticking his tongue straight out to a point, he stabbed forward into Harry’s tight hole. The brunette’s knees slammed together on either side of Draco’s head.

 

Draco lifted his head, keeping both hands on Harry’s knees. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

 

“Yes,” Harry groaned. “Nobody has ever done _that_ for me, either.”

 

“Are you going to be okay, or do I have to tie your legs down?”

 

Harry turned slightly green.

 

Draco rubbed his thumbs in circles over Harry’s knees. “I was joking, love. Are you ready?” He felt muscles in Harry’s legs tighten.

 

“Ready for what?” the Gryffindor asked nervously.

 

“Ready for what ever you want.”

 

Harry nodded before glancing down shyly at his lap. Draco, taking the hint, lowered his mouth to Harry’s erection once more. He swirled his tongue around the head of Harry’s cock, eliciting a groan of satisfaction from above. Draco took Harry’s cock as deep as he could, allowing the head to enter the back of his throat.

 

As he deep throated Harry, the blond circled a finger around Harry’s entrance. Draco lifted his mouth to take a breath. He slid his mouth back down the length and simultaneously pressed his finger into Harry’s body. With a sharp cry, Harry’s grip tightened in Draco’s hair and he came violently down the other boy’s throat.

 

When Harry’s shaking subsided, he let go of Draco’s hair and fell back against the sheets tonelessly. Draco sat up and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

 

“How was that?” he asked, lying down on his side, propped up on his left elbow.

 

Harry opened his glazed emerald eyes. “Fucking brilliant.” He cupped Draco’s cheek in one hand before kissing him soundly on the mouth.

 

Draco moaned. He opened his mouth and bid down on Harry’s bottom lip.

 

“Ahh,” Harry gasped, sucking his lip into his mouth.

 

“Did I hurt you?” Draco asked, reaching up.

 

“No.” Harry shook his head.

 

He rolled Draco on his back, settling his naked weight on top of the blond. Draco ran his fingertips down Harry’s bare back. There were beads of sweat along the length of his spine. Harry dipped his head down to lick a length of Draco’s neck.

 

“I want to blow you,” he whispered.

 

Draco gripped Harry’s firm arse in one hand. “I want you to suck my cock,” he whispered back.

 

Harry’s nimble fingers made quick work of Draco’s belt and zips. Draco clenched his teeth, trying not to cry out. Harry pulled Draco’s trousers down, only just enough to let his cock spring free. Draco’s hips bucked involuntarily and his eager cock brushed Harry’s cheek.

 

“Sorry,” Draco said, sheepishly.

 

Harry only smiled. The brunette then bent down and took Draco’s manhood nearly into his throat. With a gagging sound and a series of coughs, Harry pulled himself up.

 

“I don’t think I can finish that,” he said with a strangled voice.

 

“That’s okay,” Draco said, taking the wet length in his hand.

 

“I can do that,” Harry said, slapping Draco’s hand away.

 

Draco licked his lips and groaned. “I want you to suck my fingers like you would suck my cock.”

 

Harry lowered his dark eyelashes slowly. He opened his mouth obediently, allowing Draco to slide his fingers inside. As Harry moved his hand down Draco’s shaft, Draco slid his first two fingers deeply inside Harry’s mouth. The result was the feeling of Harry sucking a cock, rather than just Draco’s fingers. Harry tightened his grip, trying to give Draco more pleasure. Draco bucked his hips up into Harry’s hand.

 

“Faster, babe,” he groaned, biting his lip.

 

Harry’s left hand joined his right. In tandem, they worked to bring Draco off. The blond pulled his fingers from Harry’s wet mouth. He ran them down the dark chest, stopping to tweak a nipple. Harry bent down and captured Draco’s mouth in a searing kiss.

 

“Come for me, Draco.”

 

Draco squeezed his grey eyes shut. He bucked his hips into Harry’s hands once, twice, three times as he emptied himself into the brunette’s palms. He fell back against the bed.

 

As Draco recovered from his orgasm, Harry reached down to retrieve his pants. Draco pulled his pants and trousers up as well. He caught Harry by the waist as the brunette leaned over the bed to get his own trousers.

 

“Do you want to leave me so soon?” he asked, pulling the brunette against his chest.

 

“No,” Harry replied, threading his fingers through the ones that held him. “I’m cold.”

 

With a chuckle, Draco pulled the soft duvet up over them. “Is that better?” he asked, pressing a kiss to Harry’s temple.

 

“Yes.”

 

After a long silence, Draco stroked a hand down Harry’s cheek. “How do you feel?”

 

Harry gave no response. Draco looked down. Harry was sound asleep against his chest.

 

“Merry Christmas, baby,” he said, lifting his wand to shut off the light.

 


	13. Chapter 13

Harry blinked his sleepy green eyes open. He turned his head into the pillow beneath his cheek and the memories of the previous night flooded his mind. Closing his eyes once more, he reached a hand towards the other occupant of the bed. He tangled his fingers in a belt loop and tried to tug the warm body closer.

 

Draco rolled over onto his back, stretching his arms out before turning to face the sleepy brunette.

 

“Good morning,” Harry said, yawning.

 

“Good morning, indeed,” Draco replied, brushing the fringe out of Harry’s eyes. “Did you sleep well?”

 

Harry nodded. “What time is it?”

 

Draco glanced over his shoulder. “Just after 9. Why?”

 

Harry shrugged. “I don’t usually sleep so late.”

 

“Today is a holiday. You have a right to sleep in.” Draco stood up and pulled a tee shirt on. “Do you want to open your presents now or later?”

 

Harry sat up, bewildered. His eyes widened when he saw the two piles of brightly wrapped gifts at the foot of the bed.

 

“I will never understand how they do that.”

 

“House elves,” Draco answered, tossing Harry the first box.

 

Several books, tins of chocolate, two Weasley jumpers and other odds and ends later, Harry and Draco were sitting side-by-side on the bed staring down at a mountain of wrapping paper. Harry had donned his Weasley jumper, and after much coercion, Draco was wearing his as well.

 

“At least it’s not red,” the Slytherin said, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

 

“Don’t worry,” Harry said, smoothing a hand down the front of Draco’s powder blue jumper. “Mrs. Weasley knows what a nasty, evil, Slytherin you are.”

 

“So then why did you get the green jumper?”

 

“I always get the green jumper,” Harry shrugged. “Green brings out my eyes,” he said, batting his eyelashes dramatically.

 

“So does lust,” Draco added, kissing him softly. He pulled away, watching Harry’s eyes intently. “Just like that.”

 

Harry blushed, looking away.

 

Draco jumped off the bed. “I have something for you.”

 

He disappeared into the closet and returned carrying a black velvet box in the palm of his hand. “I was originally going to wait to give you this, but I couldn’t see a better time than now.”

 

Harry swung his legs over the side of the bed and rested his heels on the wooden board beneath the mattresses. “What is it?” he asked.

 

Draco made no move from the centre of the room. He did, however, take a deep breath. “I love you, Harry.”

 

“I know.” Harry smiled brightly. “I love you, too.”

 

Draco smiled as well. “I can’t see myself with anyone else. Harry, I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

 

Harry felt his breath escape him as Draco got down on one knee.

 

“Harry James Potter,” Draco opened the box, “will you marry me?”

 

With wide eyes, Harry looked from the box in Draco’s hands to the Slytherin’s hopeful grey eyes. “I . . . yes,” he stuttered, before bursting into tears.

 

Draco dropped the box and stood up, wrapping his arms around the other boy. “Why are you crying?” he asked, rubbing a hand up and down Harry’s back.

 

“Nobody has ever loved me the way you do,” Harry sobbed, his voice muffled in Draco’s shoulder.

 

Draco rested his chin atop Harry’s head. They stayed that way until Harry calmed down.

 

Suddenly, the brunette tightened his grip on Draco’s torso.

 

“She moved,” he gasped.

 

“What?” Draco asked, pulling away.

 

“The baby,” Harry said, motioning to his belly. “I felt her move.”

 

Draco placed a hand lovingly over the belly. “She must have been reacting to your happiness.”

 

Harry smiled, kissing the blond again.

 

“I never got a chance to give you this,” Draco bent down to retrieve the forgotten box.

 

He handed the container to Harry, who took it with shaky hands. Harry opened the box to find a plain silver band encrusted with onyx stones.

 

“It was my mother’s,” Draco said, as Harry lifted the ring from the velvet.

 

Harry looked up. “Does she know you’re giving it to me?”

 

“Of course,” Draco replied. “She gave it to me when I was eleven and told me to save it for the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I chose to give it to you.”

 

Harry grinned despite himself. He looked up at Draco coyly. “Would you do the honours?”

 

“It would be my pleasure,” Draco replied, taking the ring from Harry’s hands. He slid the band onto Harry’s finger and sealed the deal with a firm kiss.

 

“It fits,” Harry said softly, looking down at the ring.

 

“It’s charmed,” Draco replied.

 

“Thank you, Draco.” Harry kissed him again. “But,” he bit his lip, “I don’t have anything for you.”

 

Draco stroked a hand down his cheek. “I told you before: you and Jamie are all I need.”

 

Harry reached up to take Draco’s hand, placing a kiss in the palm.

 

\---

 

Their week passed comfortably. The couple chose to stay within the confines of Draco’s room and the Slytherin common room. Only a handful of Slytherins had chosen to stay, none of which batted an eye at Harry’s presence. They even went so far as to extend an invitation to the New Year’s Eve party.

 

Draco entered the common room, pulling an apprehensive Harry along with him. There were only about 20 people in the room -- all Slytherins. Harry glanced around, smiling weakly as he and his boyfriend were greeted. Draco pulled him down onto a couch near a group of seventh years, where they stayed for the duration of the evening.

 

The group was surprisingly open to the shy brunette. They were careful to include Harry in the conversation until the traditional midnight kiss, after which Draco dragged his boyfriend away from the party. Once again, they holed themselves up in Draco’s room until Blaise returned, along with the rest of the student body, three days later.

 

“How was your holiday?” Ron asked, when the brunette finally returned late Friday night.

 

“Bloody fantastic,” Harry said, lying back on his bed.

 

Ron raised his eyebrows. “That good? Did Malfoy owl you every day or something?” He shut his trunk, his eyebrows now knitted in confusion. “I wouldn’t get excited. I didn’t see him on the train.”

 

Harry grinned up at his mate over the rim of his spectacles. “He never left.”

 

“What?” Ron sat down on his bed.

 

“He never left,” Harry repeated. “I didn’t find out until Christmas Eve, but he convinced Snape to let him stay.”

 

“What a spoiled git,” Ron said with a laugh.

 

Harry gave him a look that sobered the redhead’s laughter.

 

“Sorry.”

 

Harry twisted the ring on his third finger thoughtfully. “How was your holiday?”

 

“The usual,” Ron shrugged. “Mum told me she made Malfoy a jumper.”

 

Harry smiled at the memory. “I made him put it on.”

 

Throwing his head back, Ron roared with laughter. “I never thought I would live to see a Malfoy in a Weasley jumper!” he crowed, wiping the tears from his eyes.

 

“He looked really good in it,” Harry offered, shrugging.

 

“That’s what made your holiday so brilliant, yea? I would be set for life if I saw Malfoy in that jumper.”

 

Harry wordlessly held up his left hand, wiggling his fourth finger at Ron.

 

“Bloody hell!” the freckled boy exclaimed. “Malfoy gave you _that_?”

 

“It’s an engagement ring, Ron.”

 

The redhead’s eyes nearly fell out of his head. “Malfoy asked you to _marry_ him?”

 

“Not so loud,” Harry hissed, gesturing to the sleeping occupants in the room.

 

“Sorry,” Ron said, again.

 

Harry lifted his wand and cast a silencing charm around their beds. “How is Hermione?”

 

“She’s rather stubborn,” Ron shrugged. “I don’t think she’s going to like your news.”

 

Harry sighed deeply. “Neither is Christopher Rhyahni.”

 

\---       

 

The next morning, Harry walked down to the Great Hall for the first time since before the start of the holiday. He made sure Ron sat down between himself and Hermione in case the girl decided to hit someone when he told her his news. Lucky for the boys, Hermione was in a bright mood that morning.   


“It’s so good to see you, Harry,” she said, leaning across Ron’s lap to give the brunette a hug. “How was your holiday?”

 

“Fantastic,” Harry answered, honestly.

 

“Really? How did you have so much fun alone in the Tower?”

 

“I wasn’t alone. Draco stayed with me.” Harry held his breath, waiting for the explosion.

 

“Well,” Hermione answered curtly. “I guess being a spoiled pureblood has _some_ benefits.”

 

“It wasn’t like that,” Harry defended, narrowing his eyes.

 

“Malfoy is a good guy, Hermione,” Ron cut in. “You should give him a chance.”

 

“I would,” Hermione stood up, “but Harry has already given him too many chances for my liking.”

 

“Then I guess now would be a bad time to tell you I’m _engaged_!” Harry shouted as Hermione walked a way from the Gryffindor table.

 

“Aren’t you going to go after her?” Harry asked, giving Ron a sideways glance.

 

“She’ll cool off,” Ron shrugged, taking a bite of his breakfast.

 

Harry sat for a moment, shoving bacon and eggs around his plate. Finally, he threw his fork down. “I’ve lost my appetite. I’m going back to the dorm.”

 

“Do you want me to go with you?’ Ron asked through a mouthful of pancakes.

 

“No,” Harry said, shaking his dark locks.

 

Before leaving the Great Hall, Harry desperately searched the Slytherin table for his boyfriend. Draco was not there. With a resolute sigh, he started toward the Tower. On a whim, he turned on his heel and headed for the dungeons.

 

As he neared the staircase, an unfamiliar voice called out to him. “Potter!”

 

Harry turned around and came face to face with a person dressed entirely in black. Fear consumed the Gryffindor as two black gloves lifted him by the front of his jumper.

 

“I thought I told you to stay away from Draco Malfoy.” The voice was deadly calm.

 

“I . . . yes . . .” was all Harry managed to stutter.

 

“Then you know you deserve this.”

 

Without any warning, the black-cloaked figure let go of the small boy.

 

Harry looked behind himself frantically and screamed. He was falling down the staircase. Closing his eyes, Harry wrapped his arms protectively around his stomach. He said a quick prayer and then all he knew was darkness.

 


	14. Chapter 14

Harry awoke to a wet cloth being pressed to his forehead. 

“There you are, Potter,” a distinctly feminine voice said.

Harry blinked up at the harsh light. “My baby,” he said, his voice raspy.

“Your baby is fine, Mr. Potter,” Madame Pomfrey said, handing him a bar of chocolate. “I wish I could say the same for your judgement.”

“Where’s Draco?” Harry asked, opting to ignore the medi-witch. 

“I’m the one that found you.”

Harry looked to his right, finally noticing the other occupant of the room. “What happened?” he asked. 

“I saw you falling down the stairs and I ran to catch you. I cast a levitation spell, but it wasn’t strong enough to stop you from hitting the last step,” Rhy said, handing Harry his glasses. “You’re lucky all you got was a nasty bump on the head.”

Harry reached up to the back of his head gingerly. He hissed in pain when his fingers came in contact with the lump. “Why didn’t you bring Draco down here?” he asked, looking up at Pomfrey.

“There wasn’t any need,” Pomfrey answered tersely, pursing her lips. “You’re free to go now that you’re awake, Potter. Mr. Rhyahni will accompany you to your dorm.”

Rhy stood up, offering Harry his hand. Harry swung his legs over the bed and took the hand. He stood up, feeling light-headed. Swaying on his feet, Harry would have fallen, had it not been for Rhy’s arms wrapping around his waist.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” the Ravenclaw asked, steadying his hands on Harry’s shoulders.

“Yes,” Harry answered, taking a step away. “I think I’ll just go back to my room and have a lie-down.”

\---

Once Rhy left Harry at Gryffindor Tower, the brunette waiting a full sixty seconds before setting off towards the dungeons once more. This time he made it without trouble. He knocked softly on the door and was surprised when Blaise answered. 

“Hi, um, is Draco here?” he asked nervously.

“No,” the dark boy replied, opening the door wider, “but you can come in if you like. He should be back soon.”

Harry stepping into the room, trying to stay out of Blaise’s way. 

“I was just heading out,” Blaise said from the doorway, “Make yourself at home, Potter. I’ll see you later.” He waved before shutting the door behind him.

Harry looked around the quiet room. With a sigh, he laid down on Draco’s bed, inhaling the scent of his boyfriend. 

\---

Draco opened the door to his room and slammed it in frustration. He mentally slapped himself when he saw the sleeping Gryffindor in his bed. As quietly as he could, he toed off his shoes and socks. He crossed the room and sat down next to Harry’s sleeping form. Leaning down, he gave Harry a soft kiss on his full lips.

Harry stirred slightly before opening his brilliant green eyes. “Hey,” he smiled, stretching his arms up over his head.

“Hey, yourself,” Draco replied, stroking his knuckles down Harry’s cheek.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” the brunette apologized, sitting up. “I was waiting for you and Blaise said you would be right back.”

Draco ran a hand through his normally immaculate blond locks. “I was talking to Severus. Unfortunately, he didn’t give me the answer I wanted.”

“What about?” Harry asked, cocking his head to the side.

“I suppose I should tell you now,” Draco said, setting his hand on Harry’s thigh.

“Tell me what?” Harry asked, his expression suddenly full of fear.

“Do you remember when Severus said that he would be willing to help you with your,” Draco paused, “condition?”

Harry nodded slowly.

“Well, Severus agreed to take you back to your past through age regression.”

“Why would I want to do that?” Harry asked, his tone suddenly full of irritation. 

Draco took a breath. “In order to re-write your past, you first have to re-live it. But it’s only if you’re willing. Severus will be with you every step of the way.”

“What about you?” Harry asked quietly. 

“I’ll be physically with you, but only Severus will be able to re-live your past with you. This is only if you’re willing, Harry.”

“How long do I have to think about it?”

“That’s where the fight came in.” Draco sighed deeply. “Severus said you can’t start until you have the baby.”

“You told him!” Harry exclaimed. 

“I had to,” Draco explained, “Performing this procedure on a pregnant witch or wizard could have damaging effects on the unborn baby.”

Harry nodded.

“Could you handle that, Harry?” Draco asked, his tone deadpan.

Harry pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around his knees. “Honestly? I don’t know if I could re-live everything I went through.” He looked up at Draco over the rim of his spectacles. “Are we going to do it all in the same day?”

“Oh, no,” Draco shook his head, “It would have to be spread out for several months. Severus said it would probably take about six months for you.” 

Harry remained silent, considering the offer. “Could we start before my birthday?”

“That’s a definite possibility, yes.”

Harry nodded again. 

Draco took on of the brunette’s hands, lacing their fingers together. “Baby, I don’t want to do anything you’re not ready for. That applies across the board.”

“I know,” Harry said quietly. 

Draco pulled him into a hug. “So what did you want to talk to me about?”

Harry sat back on the pillows. “It was nothing,” he said, his cheeks colouring, “I just wanted to see you.”

“Well, in that case, hello there,” Draco grinned, lying down on his stomach between Harry’s knees. 

“Hermione’s mad at me again,” Harry said, idly stroking a hand through Draco’s hair.

Draco laid his cheek against his boyfriend’s chest. “It’s about me, isn’t it?”

Harry nodded once and let out a loud breath. 

“I thought as much.”

Harry’s hand paused in Draco’s hair. “Don’t worry about her,” the stroking continued, “Ron’s still on my side.”

“For how long?” Draco mumbled against Harry’s jumper.

Harry shoved Draco up by the shoulders. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Draco sat up, crossing his arms over his chest. “You know he’s going to be back at Granger’s heels in a matter of days.”

“Thanks for your support, Malfoy,” Harry snapped, pushing Draco away. He stood up, heading for the door. 

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Walk out the door. I’m not running after you this time.”

Harry narrowed his eyes before slamming the door behind himself. 

\---

As he stormed down the corridor, Harry chanced a look at his wristwatch. He cursed loudly, turning the corner. When Harry got to his destination, he threw the door open and slammed it shut so hard the walls of the room shook. He began striping his clothes off as quickly as he could, leaving them to pile carelessly at his feet. 

“I’m bloody late, I know.”

Rhy raised his eyebrows. “Is something bothering you, Harry?”

“No!” he wrapped his arms around his burgeoning middle. “Yes,” he said in a softer tone.

“Get dressed.” Rhy sat down on a nearby bench.

Harry pulled his clothes back on nearly as fast as he took them off before sitting down on the bench next to Rhy.

“Did you and Malfoy have a fight?” the Ravenclaw ventured. 

“Yes,” Harry replied, digging the toe of his trainer into the tile floor.

“Come here.” Rhy opened his arms.

Harry, after a slight hesitation, slid over on the bench, allowing Rhy to hug him. Laying his head on Rhy’s shoulder, he allowed a few stray tears to escape down his cheeks. 

“Did you see everything that happened when I fell?”

“No,” Rhy said in a low voice, “all I saw was you falling and I reacted on instinct.

“Oh,” Harry chewed his bottom lip. “Well, thank you.”

“Anytime,” Rhy replied. “So what are you and Malfoy fighting about?”

Harry shrugged. “It’s the same shite. I told Hermione that we got engaged and she went off-”

“You got engaged?”

“Yes,” Harry said uncertainly, almost afraid of the answer.

“Well Malfoy’s certainly a lucky guy, he is.”

Harry just nodded as he continued to chew his lip.

“I’m sorry. I interrupted your story.”

“I- oh,” Harry stood up, disentangling himself from Rhy’s grasp. “He accused Ron of being two-faced.”

“Is he?”

“Who, Draco?”

“Ron.”

“What about Ron?”

“Is he two-faced?” 

“Of course not!” Harry shouted, stepping away from the taller boy. 

“I was just asking,” Ron said with raised eyebrows as he held his hands up in front of himself defensively. 

“Ugh,” Harry groaned, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I’m sorry. This day has just been absolute shite.”

“Hey.” Rhy stood up and pulled Harry’s hands away from his face. “I’m not mad. You’re just reacting to a bad situation.”

“I guess you’re right,” Harry agreed, giving Rhy a weak smile. “I just need a bit of a distraction.”

“How about this?” Rhy whispered before sealing Harry’s lips with his own in a wet kiss. 

The Gryffindor stumbled backwards, eyes wide in shock. “I have to go,” he choked out underneath the hand that covered his mouth. Without a last look at Rhy, Harry bolted from the room, leaving the Ravenclaw with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

\---

Harry ran all the way back to the Tower, stopping just once on the way to vomit in the nearest loo. After what seemed like an eternity, Harry gasped the password to the Fat Lady and stepped in to the common room.

“Where is Ron Weasley?” he asked a group of third years, who were sitting just inside the door. 

They pointed him to a sofa, partially hidden in the corner.

“Thanks.” Harry jogged over to the sofa where he found his two best friends snogging each other. “Ron, I need to talk to you,” he said, pointedly ignoring the scene in front of him.

“Not now, Harry,” Ron mumbled against Hermione’s lips as he waved a hand in the brunette’s direction. 

“Ron, this is really important,” Harry said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Ron turned to Harry with an angry scowl set over his kiss-swollen lips. “I said not now!” He resumed his snog session, failing to notice as Harry left the room with tears streaming down his cheeks. 

Harry charged up the stairs to his dorm, nearly blinded by the tears in his eyes. He nipped his invisibility cloak, the photograph next to his bed, and the knife he pinched form Potions. Nearly as quickly as he dashed into the room, Harry left. Wiping his eyes on the back of his jumper, he slowed his pace when he got to the Common Room, hoping to avoid any unwanted attention.

One Harry was safely outside the room, he checked the hallway to ensure he was alone before donning his cloak. Taking a deep breath, he began walking calmly down the corridor. His footsteps led him to a very familiar, yet terribly unfrequented room.

Harry entered the small room, taking a seat next to one of the large glass cases. He pulled the photograph and knife out of his pocket, setting them down on the floor next to him. Harry rested his forehead against the case.

“I miss you, Dad,” he sighed. 

A bronze trophy, weathered with age, stared back at him silently. Emblazoned on the cup was the name “James Potter”. Harry picked up the photograph on the floor and ran his fingertip over the image gently. James and Lily Potter, on their wedding day, smiled up at him and waved. Letting out a choked sob, Harry set the photograph back down.

“Why can’t I just be normal?” he asked himself out loud. 

His words echoed off the empty walls. 

“Of course,” he answered himself, “It’s my destiny.” The last word was said with sarcasm and disdain.

Harry picked up the knife, observing his reflection in the smooth metal. “Well what if this is my destiny.”

Standing up, Harry removed his clothing save for the clean white pants he always wore.

“I’m sorry, Christopher Rhyahni, but you can’t look here.” Harry raised the leg of his pants as far as it would allow. With the very tip of the knife, he made a straight incision from the juncture of his groin to the middle of his thigh. He watched with a satisfied smirk as the mark began to fill with crimson.

“Hermione Granger,” he said, as he made another incision perpendicular through the first mark, “you do not know everything.”

“Ronald Weasley,” a third mark, “the world does not revolve around you and your girlfriend.”

He made a final cut, this one deeper than the other three. “Draco Malfoy,” Harry took his time, adding tiny x’s with the knife point down that line. “You do not own me. I am having your child by choice. I am marrying you by choice. That does not -- and will not -- obligate me to you in any way I do not deem appropriate.” With each statement, he dug the x’s a little deeper until they just became holes in his flesh.

The knife dropped to the floor with a clatter. Panting heavily, Harry surveyed the bloody mess of his thigh. He took his starched white oxford shirt and tied it around his leg before pulling his pants down against the tight tourniquet. 

Harry pocketed hi knife, wand, and photograph before donning his invisibility cloak. Taking a deep breath, the young Gryffindor strode out the door of the Trophy Room with his back straight in a display of self-confidence.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I took so long on these. Chapters 15-33 had to be converted from .wps documents because this fic is so old. *headdesk*

The next morning, Harry opted to skip breakfast entirely. Instead, he headed straight to the Prefect’s Bathroom and waited until Rhy got there. The Ravenclaw stepped into the room with a somewhat solemn look on his face.

 

“You weren’t at breakfast this morning, Harry.”

 

“So.”

 

“I’m in charge-”

 

“Of making sure I don’t _cut_ myself,” Harry cut in with an acid-laced tone.

 

Rhy pursed his lips.

 

“Let’s get this over with then.”

 

He took his time checking Harry closely from head to toe, nearly making the brunette flinch with his presence. Close attention was paid to old scars, in case Harry had decided to run a razor over them. Finally, Rhy stood up, satisfied, and allowed the Gryffindor to redress.

 

“Harry, about that kiss. . .” he started, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck nervously.

 

“It never happened,” Harry insisted firmly, looking the taller boy in the eye.

 

Rhy appeared hurt for a moment before stepping back, a smirk on his face. “You didn’t tell Malfoy.”

 

“Of course not!” Harry whet his lips as his eyes flashed dangerously. “It **never** happened,” he said evenly, before stalking out the door.

 

            Harry walked briskly to the owlery, nearly trampling a couple first years in his wake. He entered the room in such a huff, a few of the school owls skittered away in fright. Hedwig was undisturbed as she flew down to meet her master.

 

“Hey, girl,” Harry said, petting the downy-soft feathers.

 

He dug a piece parchment out of his pocket and smoothed the paper the best he could. “Take this to Draco for me, okay, Hedwig?”

 

With a soft hoot of reply, the snowy owl took off, soaring gracefully through one of the many open windows.

 

Harry’s reply came much later in the day. He had already seen Rhy again -- ignoring everything the Ravenclaw had to say. The Gryffindor now sat alone in the room where the Mirror of Erised once stood, brooding over his situation.

 

_Harry-_

_Consider yourself forgiven. I could never hold a grudge against you. Come to my room as soon as you can. We never got to finish talking last night._

_-D_

Harry nearly tripped over s own feet getting to Draco’s room, he ran so fast. He steadied himself and knocked firmly on the door, not trying to give his excitement away. Draco’s roommate answered the door and Harry’s face fell.

 

“Blaise.”

 

“He’s in there,” Blaise said, walking past Harry.

 

Harry looked over his shoulder at the fleeting form, unsure what to do.

 

“Are you going to stand there all day, or are you coming in?” Draco stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the door jam.

 

Harry dropped his eyes and shuffled into the room like a kicked dog. He took a seat delicately on the furry cobalt armchair in the corner of the room. His hands fell uselessly in his lap as he looked up at his boyfriend.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

 

“Apology accepted,” Draco replied, shutting the door. He crossed the room and knelt down, taking the brunette’s hands in his own.

 

“The last thing I want is for you to hurt, Harry. I’m only trying to protect you.”

 

“I know.” Harry nodded, his voice quiet. He lowered his dark eyelashes to their joined hands. “I have to show you something.”

 

Standing up, Harry released Draco’s hands.

 

The blond sat back on his haunches so he could look up at Harry.

 

The Gryffindor silently unbuckled his trousers and lowered them down his legs. He stood up, dragging the hem of his pants with him.

 

Draco let out a soft breath of surprise when he saw the newest mark. “Why?” he asked, running his fingers over the scabbed lines.

 

“Stress.” Harry shrugged. “The other night, when I left, I had to meet Rhy. He asked me what happened, because he knew I was upset. He figured out we had a fight.” Harry took a breath. “Then he kissed me,” he said, letting the breath out.

 

Turning his head to the side, Harry willed himself to look anywhere but Draco’s eyes. He looked down when he felt smooth palms sliding over his thighs.

 

“What did you do then?” Draco’s voice was tight as though he was just barely holding back some emotion.

 

“I pushed him away and ran back to Gryffindor,” he said, keeping his eyes on the thumbs rubbing small circles on his thigh. “I tried to talk to Ron, but he was -- busy. So I left.” Harry motioned to his latest scar. “That’s it.”

 

Draco stood up and pushed Harry down into the chair behind him before straddling his knees. “Did this make you feel better?” he asked, cupping the mark in his hand.

 

“Yes,” Harry replied, just over a whisper.

 

“Maybe it will make me feel better, too,” Draco said thoughtfully.

 

“What?” Harry’s head shot up.

 

Draco nodded. “Seeing you in pain hurts me. Maybe if I cut myself, I’ll feel better, too.”

 

Harry pushed Draco’s hands away form his skin and turned his head. “Draco, don’t do this to me.”

 

“Don’t do what?” Draco’s tone was malicious. He grabbed Harry’s jaw between his thumb and forefinger, forcing the brunette to look at him. “Don’t tell me not to do things you can’t stop yourself from doing.”

 

In the span of a heartbeat, Harry pushed Draco off him and onto the floor. “That’s not fair and you know it,” he growled, rubbing his jaw.

 

“It’s not fair to our daughter that you keep mutilating yourself,” Draco countered.

 

Harry drew in a breath, glowering.

 

“I know it’s not easy,” Draco continued, “but there has to be a way to redistribute your emotion into a better outlet.”

 

Trailing his hand down Harry’s chest, he let his fingertips catch in the buttons down the front of Harry’s ivory blouse. Grey eyes flicked upward, silently asking for permission. The hunter gaze that met him was full of anguish -- a far cry from desire.

 

“Talk to me, Harry,” Draco said, toying with a beady black button.

 

“Your touch frightens me,” Harry said suddenly.

 

Draco pulled his hands away as though he had been burn. He stumbled to his feet, hands clasped to his chest. The aristocrat looked very much like a man who had just been wounded by a bullet. He swallowed thickly, the colour of his skin fading to match Harry’s shirt.

 

“That’s not what I mean.” Harry’s tone had gone from worried to distressed. Unsure of what to do with his hands, he buttoned and unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt until Draco’s gently hands stopped him.

 

“We need to have a serious talk,” Draco said firmly.

 

Draco took a seat on the bed next to the chair -- Blaise’s bed -- not his. “Where do you want this to go?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. A few stray hairs fell into his eyes. Draco brushed them away, annoyed.

 

Harry had pulled his knees up to his chest once more. The pose left him looking scared and vulnerable, which wasn’t far from the truth.

 

“Right now, I am so confused I don’t know what to do with myself.” Harry buried his nose between his knees until Draco could only see the emerald eyes.

 

“Listen,” Draco took Harry’s hands in his, “It’s not your fault Rhyahni kissed you, okay? I’m not mad.”

 

Harry nodded, tears threatening to spill over.

 

Draco pulled him in to a hug. Nearly reluctant, Harry relaxed into the embrace.

 

“There’s more to the story,” Harry said, in a choked voice.

 

Draco nodded against Harry’s shoulder. “When you’re ready to tell me, I’m ready to listen.”

 

Harry pulled away. He took a deep shuddering breath and wiped the ears form his eyes. Then he proceeded to tell Draco the real story -- his stalker included.


	16. Chapter 16

The next morning, Harry managed to eat his normal amount. His appetite should have been increasing, but instead had been declining with his mood. He was going to visit Pomfry, just as he promised Draco. Looking up from his empty plate, Harry noticed the blond was absent from his usual place at the Slytherin table.

 

Before he had a chance to wonder, Draco burst through the door. His murderous expression was focused on one person.

 

Rhy looked up from his breakfast. “Can I help you?” he asked calmly.

 

Instead of replying, Draco hauled the Ravenclaw up by his collar and punched him in the mouth.

 

“Mr. Malfoy!” Snape and Flitwick cried simultaneously, standing up.

 

Draco didn’t falter. He kept punching Rhy until the brunette fell to the floor. He held his hands in front of himself in defence. Draco was not deterred. He bypassed the hands and started choking Rhy’s vulnerable throat.

 

A group of professors were already on their way.

 

“Everyone remain in your seats,” Dumbledore said in his quiet way.

 

Three spells hit Draco. The blond crumbled to the floor next to Rhy like a broken doll. Rhy, coughing for breath, was helped to his feet.

 

“Draco!” Harry cried, but he was held back by Ron.

 

Blood streamed down Rhy’s face in two thick rivulets from his nose. He allowed Flitwick to escort him out of the room after tossing Harry a pain-filled look over his shoulder.

 

Snape revived Draco. He pulled the young man up from the floor by his arm roughly. Harry wrenched free form Ron and rushed to his boyfriend only to be held at bay by Snape’s wand.

 

“Do not take a step closer, Mr. Potter, or you will find yourself in detention alongside Mr. Malfoy.”

 

“Draco,” Harry pleaded, lamely.

 

Draco stubbornly refused to raise his head. Blond locks shielded his delicate face from view as he was led from the Hall by a very irate Head of House.

 

Harry crossed the Hall and fled through the opposite entrance.

 

            Madame Pomfry looked up as Harry entered the infirmary. The Gryffindor glanced at Rhy and sat down in a free chair.

 

“I’d like to talk to you once you’re free,” Harry said, carefully avoiding the medi-witch’s stern glare.

 

“Am I correct in assuming you had something to do with this, Potter?”

 

“I would rather talk to about it in private,” he answered, looking pointedly at Rhy.

 

Harry waited until Pomfry sent Rhy away with a mended nose and a clean bill of health.

 

“Talk, Potter,” Pomfry said, as the door to the infirmary shut soundly.

 

“Can I have your word that you won’t tell anyone else?”

 

Pomfry took a seat and motioned Harry to do the same. “You know our talks are always confidential.”

 

“Someone is stalking me,” Harry started boldly.

 

“Is it Christopher?”

 

“No,” Harry shook his head. “Draco attacked him because I told him that Rhy kissed me.”

 

“Did you know Draco was going to hurt Christopher?”

 

Another no.

 

“Did anything else happen between you and Christopher?”

 

“No way,” Harry’s reply was almost automatic. “Draco just overreacts sometimes.”

 

“Would you overreact if your positions were reversed?” Pomfry asked gently.

 

Harry shifted in his seat. “I don’t know.”

 

“Does anyone else know you’re being stalked?”

 

Harry shook his head.

 

“How long has this been going on?”

 

“A few months,” Harry said. He looked up at the medi-witch and his big green eyes filled with tears. “I don’t want to give Draco up,” he said, as he blinked and allowed the tears to spill over.

 

“Now, why would you do that?” Pomfry’s tone was motherly. She handed Harry some tissues to mop at his wet eyes.

 

“That’s what they want!” Harry sobbed, sending a fresh rush of tears down his cheeks.

 

“This person stalking you wants to split you and Draco?”

 

Harry nodded, unable to speak.

 

Pomfry sat back in the chair, allowing the information to sink in.

 

Harry sat across from her. Tears were streaming down his red cheeks. He hiccupped and drew in a shaky breath, trying to calm his breathing. Pomfry handed him a turquoise potion.

 

“Drink this, it will make you feel better.”

 

“What is it?” Harry asked through his hiccups, eying the potion suspiciously.

 

“It’s a calming draught,” Pomfry answered, with a disapproving glare.

 

After much hesitation, Harry reluctantly drank the potion. His body relaxed noticeably. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

 

“Thank you.”

 

A nod was his only answer.

 

Before anything else could be said, a timid Hufflepuff first year stepped into the room. He cleared his throat, glancing from Harry to Pomfry nervously.

 

“Professor Dumbledore would like to speak to Harry Potter in his office.”

 

Pomfry turned to the Gryffindor with a raised eyebrow. “Are you up to it, Potter?”

 

“I’m all right,” he replied, nodding. He stood up.

 

Pomfry smiled for the first time since Harry stepped into the infirmary that day. “I want to see you later today. Take care of yourself, Potter.”

 

            The first year left Harry at the bottom of the stairs to Dumbledore’s office after whispering, “Acid pops.” He gave Harry a half smile.

 

“Good luck,” he said before disappearing down the corridor.

 

Harry took a deep breath. He ascended the stairs slowly. With any luck, the summons had nothing to do with Rhy. Harry snorted. If he was lucky, he would still have his parents. A sharp twinge of pain passed through his chest at the missed memory. He knocked when he got to the top of the staircase.

 

“Come in, my boy,” Dumbledore’s voice was jovial as ever. It gave Harry no hint as to what he would fine once he stepped inside the room.

 

Rhy and Draco sat in front of opposite corners of Dumbledore’s desk. Thy were facing each other, as though they were afraid something would happen if they turned away.

 

“Harry.” Draco’s glare broke into a smile of relief.

 

Across from him, Rhy stiffened slightly. “Hullo, Harry.” The tone mocked Draco defiantly.

 

Harry looked from his boyfriend to his-- there wasn’t a proper word for what Rhy was to Harry. Draco had a choice few, however.

 

“Take a seat, Harry,” Dumbledore said, conjuring a chair for the Gryffindor.

 

Harry sat down between Draco and Rhy. The tension between the two was nearly tangible.

 

“Harry, I’d like to ask you some questions.”

 

Harry nodded. He glanced nervously at Rhy and then at Draco. Draco gave him an encouraging smile, though it was obvious the blond didn’t believe it himself. Harry turned his eyes back to Dumbledore when the Headmaster began speaking.

 

“Harry, did you know that Draco had planned to have an… altercation with Christopher this morning?”

 

“No,” replied, shaking his head. He sent raven locks into his verdant eyes, shielding them from view.

 

“Did you and Draco discuss anything pertaining to Christopher last night?”

 

“Yes.” Harry brushed the fringe from his eyes so he could see the older wizard clearly.

 

“Would you tell me what you discussed?”

 

Harry glanced at Draco nervously. Draco gave a slight inclination of his head, signalling him to continue. Harry cleared his throat.

 

“I told Draco that Rhy kissed me.”

 

To Harry’s left, Rhy gripped the arms of his chair tightly. His knuckles turned white with the effort.

 

Dumbledore’s tone remained calm, as always. His next question surprised them all. “Why did you kiss Harry, Christopher, when you knew he was already involved with Draco?”

 

Rhy shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His cheeks turned pink under his normally cool exterior. “It was a mistake, Sir. I thought Harry was coming on to me,” he said, turning an innocent look towards the brunette.

 

Harry paled, but said nothing.

 

“He’s lying, Professor!” Draco shouted, shaking a fist at the Ravenclaw.

 

“Please control yourself, Mr. Malfoy, or I will assign you detention with Mr. Filch for the duration of the week.”

 

“Yes, Sir,” Draco grumbled, sinking back down in his chair.

 

“Now then,” Dumbledore continued, as though he hadn’t been interrupted. “Harry, did you make an advance on Christopher?”

 

Harry shook his head violently. “No way. I would never do that to Draco.”

 

Dumbledore nodded. “It seems, gentlemen, that we have found ourselves in a stalemate.”

 

Once more, Harry looked from Rhy to Draco. He folded his hands in his lap. “If you’re going to punish someone, let it be me,” he said softly.

 

“I think, Harry, that this confrontation has worked itself out.”

 

“So we can go?” Draco asked, jumping up from his chair.

 

“Sit down, Mr. Malfoy, I am not finished.”

 

Draco sat reluctantly, with a scowl on his face.

 

“Christopher, when is the last time you saw a fresh cut on Harry’s body?” Rhy opened his mouth to reply. He glanced at Harry and closed his mouth. The smaller boy was silently begging him not to reveal his secret. Rhy pursed his lips.

 

“He hasn’t cut himself since I began monitoring him.”

 

Dumbledore nodded. “Very well. Christopher, I believe it is time that I relinquish you of your monitoring duty.”

 

Rhy nodded. “Of course, Sir. I- what?” He looked to Harry and then back to Dumbledore, his eyes wide.

 

Dumbledore nodded again. “I believe Harry has learned his lesson.” The statement was a question directed towards Harry.

 

“Yes, Sir,” Harry replied.

 

He glanced hopefully at Draco, who gave him an encouraging smile. Harry returned the smile. He felt the warmth spread through his body and turned to smile at Rhy. The smile fell off his face when he met the Ravenclaw’s cold stare. Clearing his throat, Harry faced Dumbledore, feeling much more subdued.

 

“I would trust that if there are any more problems, you will come to me before trying to solve them yourselves.” His last statement was accompanied by a pointed look at each Harry and Draco.

 

The couple nodded.

 

“Very well. Christopher, you and Draco are dismissed. I would like to speak to Harry alone for a moment.”

 

A dark look passed over Draco’s features as he stood up. Harry laid a hand on his arm.

 

“I’ll be fine, Drake.”

 

“Okay.” Draco pressed a kiss to Harry’s cheek. “I’ll wait for you outside.

 

Dumbledore waited until the door closed behind Draco before speaking. He folded his hands on top of the desk.

 

“Harry is there anything you would like to tell me?”

 

Harry carefully schooled his features not to reveal any of the emotions he was feeling. “No, Sir, not that I can think of.”

 

“Are you sure?” Dumbledore pressed. “You don’t have anything else you want to say about Christopher or Draco?”

 

Harry pretended to think for a moment. “No, I’m rather certain we covered it all at the meeting.”

 

“Very well.” Dumbledore sat back in his chair. “Just remember that my door is always open, if you need someone to talk to, Harry.”

 

“I know. Can I go now?”

 

“Yes, of course.” Dumbledore waved his hand. “You are dismissed.”

 

Harry stood up and walked to the door. He paused with his hand on the knob and turned around. “Thank you, Sir. For everything.”

 

“Any time, my boy.”

  
Harry smiled before closing the door softly behind himself.

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

When Harry stepped out of the stairwell leading to the Headmaster’s office, Draco was leaning against the wall, waiting for him.

 

“What did Dumbledore want?” the blond asked, pushing away from the wall.

 

Harry shrugged.

 

“He wanted me to tell him my secrets.”

 

“Did you tell him?” Draco asked, a slight pitch to his voice.

 

Harry shook his head.

 

“Why not?”

 

A pointed look. “Do I have to answer that question?”

 

Draco smiled sheepishly. “I guess not.”

 

Harry stayed silent as he followed Draco to his second class of the day -- double Potions with the Slytherins. Snape was not going to be happy.

 

            When they walked through the door, the previous commotion halted. Everyone looked up at stared.

 

“Stop gawking and get back to work,” Snape barked.

 

The eyes lowered.

 

“Draco, take your seat,” the professor said softly.

 

Draco wrapped a protective arm around Harry’s waist. “If you’re going to take points, you might as well take them from Slytherin, too.”

 

Snape narrowed his eyes. “Twenty points from Gryffindor.” His glare slid to Harry. “Five points from Slytherin.”

 

Draco let out a breath through his nose, declaring his frustration. After a brief staring contest, Snape turned his back. Draco pulled Harry towards the empty table in the back.

 

“He’s going to kill you,” Harry muttered.

 

“No he isn’t,” Draco whispered back. “He knows I’m right.”

 

Harry didn’t argue. He sat down next to his boyfriend. They set to making the intended potion. They worked in silence, half out of fear and half out of concentration. Snape remained silent as well.

 

After handing in their potion, Harry and Draco walked hand in hand to the Great Hall for lunch. Harry reluctantly allowed himself to be pulled to the Slytherin table. Blaise slid over on the bench at Draco’s insistence. Harry sat down between the two Slytherins gingerly, looking around with nervous eyes.

 

“Just relax,” Draco soothed, taking the Gryffindor’s hand.

 

Harry nodded. “I’m just anxious. Can we go see Madame Pomfry?”

 

Draco glanced around the table. “Yeah.” He pinched a roll and bit half off. “Let’s go,” he said through the food in his mouth.

 

            “Potter and Malfoy,” Madame Pomfry sighed. “I should give you two a lifetime pass to this place. You’re here nearly as much as I am.”

 

“I just can’t get enough of you.” Harry grinned for the first time that day.

 

Pomfry shook her head. “What shall it be this time?

 

“I wanted to come back after my meeting, but I couldn’t skip Potions,” Harry said, hopping up onto the exam table.

 

Pomfry smiled knowingly. She held her wand up and whispered a few words. The tip turned green. She lowered it to Harry’s belly and whispered another incantation. An mage appeared in front of Harry and the brunette gasped.

 

“That’s Jamie, isn’t it?” he asked, holding his palm over the image reverently.

 

“Yes, it is,” Draco answered, sliding his hand over Harry’s hand.

 

The image was more than an ordinary muggle sonogram. Instead of just showing a crude black and white photograph, Harry and Draco saw a 3-D colour version of their growing daughter. The baby was roughly 15 centimetres, looking very much like a children’s toy. Her eyes remained closed, but a sparse sprinkling of dark hair confirmed that she was indeed a Potter.

 

“You have a healthy baby girl, Harry.”

 

Harry grinned despite himself. “She’s beautiful.” He settled his hand over his stomach.

 

Pomfry raised her wand and the image disappeared. “You’re almost half way there, Harry.”

 

The brunette nodded, rubbing his hand in small circles.

 

“We had better go,” Draco said gently. “Otherwise we won’t get any lunch at all.”

 

Harry agreed. He thanked Madame Pomfry and followed his boyfriend out the door.

 

            By the time Harry got back to Draco’s room after his classes, he fell onto the bed in an unceremonial heap. He curled around the familiar scented pillows and took a deep breath before sighing in contentment and snuggling deeper. He settled into a light sleep just before the door banged open.

 

Harry started upright, eyes wide. His gaze fell upon the form of his boyfriend.

 

“Sorry,” Draco said, sheepishly.

 

Harry lay back down on the bed and pulled the duvet up to his nose. “I wasn’t asleep that long.” The reply was muffled through the cloth.

 

Draco crossed the room to settle himself on the edge of the bed next to the brunette. “You look knackered,” he said, carding a hand through the thick locks.

 

“I almost fell asleep in McGonagall’s class,” Harry sighed, allowing dark eyelashes to fall over his eyes. “Lay down with me,” he requested, cracking an eye open.

 

Draco kicked his shoes off and removed his outer robe. “If you insist.”

 

“I do.” Harry closed his eyes once more.

 

Draco settled behind him and wrapped an room around Harry’s waist, sliding it up underneath his jumper to caress the bare skin.

 

“That feels so good,” Harry purred, leaning his had back against Draco’s shoulder. “I feel like every muscle in my body has been pulled in a different direction.”

 

Draco dropped a gentle kiss against the Gryffindor’s neck. He buried his face in Harry’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

 

The moment was ruined when the door burst open yet again.

 

“Dumbledore wants to talk to Potter,” Blaise said, his eyes flicking over the couple.

 

Harry shifted so a single emerald eye could be seen over the coverlet. “What does he want this time?”

 

Blaise shrugged. “The password is _canary cremes_.”

 

“Zabini,” Draco growled, pulling Harry back against his chest.

 

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” Blaise said, holding his hand in front of himself in defence.

 

“It’s okay,” Harry sighed. He rolled over and placed a soft kiss against Draco’s lips. “I’ll be back in half an hour.”

 

“You’d better be.”

 

“And if I’m not?” Harry quirked an eyebrow.

 

“I will find you,” Draco said sincerely.

 

Harry gave him another kiss. “Don’t get too comfortable without me.”

 

He stood up slowly, stretching his sore muscles. Draco watched the movement intently with heavy lidded eyes. Harry blew him a kiss. Blaise smirked. With a final wave, Harry left the Slytherins to their own devices.

 

            As he headed up the stairs from the dungeons, the staircase began to move. Harry had to grab onto the banister quickly to prevent himself from falling.

 

“Bollocks,” he whispered under his breath.

 

The staircase dropped him off on the opposite side of the castle from the Headmaster’s office. It was going to take him an extra ten minutes from his point.

 

The hallway was dark and unused. The portraits had a thick layer of dust and the occupants were either sleeping or missing. Harry gulped as he passed a portrait of a headless man on horseback. Definitely an unused hallway.

 

“Potter.”

 

Harry whirled around, expecting to find Ron, or someone else. Nobody was there.

 

“Get a grip,” Harry whispered.

 

He turned around and walked directly in a wall that hadn’t been there before. The only difference was that this wall was made of living, breathing flesh. Seized with fear, Harry looked up into a black mask.

 

“Say _goodnight_ , Harry.” was the last thing he heard before he blacked out.


	18. Chapter 18

Harry woke up in an unfamiliar room. The absence of his glasses made everything blurry. A quick survey of his body revealed that he was tied down at the wrists and ankles. Before he could lose control of his emotions, a voice in the dark spoke up.

 

“It’s about time you woke up.”

 

A black figure entered Harry’s field of vision, looking like little more than a spot of colour.

 

Harry opened his mouth to reply and found that he was indeed gagged. The last frightened him more than anything, and he jerked at his bonds uselessly, trying to find purchase. The figure came closer. Harry struggled harder.

 

“Relax, Harry.”

 

A black leather-encased hand settled itself on Harry’s jean-clad thigh. Harry’s movements stilled, but his eyes never left the dark figure as his heart hammered in his chest.

 

“We’re going to play a little game, okay, Harry?”

 

Harry clenched his teeth together around the soaked cloth in his mouth.

 

“Answer me, Harry, or things could get,” the figure brandished a knife, polished to such a shine, that Harry could identify the object without his glasses. “messy.”

 

Harry gave the slightest of nods.

 

“Glad to see we understand each other.”

 

The knife was set on top of Harry’s belly.

 

“This is what we’re going to do. I’m going to take that gag out of your mouth. If you scream, I’ll cut each of your toes off separately. Then I’ll cut your daughter’s off as well.”

 

Harry’s eyes widened at the mention of Jamie, but he nodded.

 

“Now, if you’re a good little lion, I’ll give you a reward.”

 

The hand fingered the button on Harry’s jeans.

 

“Do we have an agreement?”

 

Harry closed his eyes, but nodded. He was screwed either way.

 

“Good.”

 

Harry’s assailant picked up the knife and sliced through the gag with practiced precision.

 

“Now tell me,” the figure in black said, trailing the blade down Harry’s torso, not hard enough to cut, but hard enough to make its presence known. “Why are you **still** disobeying my direct orders?”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry said automatically. His breath was coming in quick gasps, betraying how frightened he was.

 

“Oh I think you do. I will tell you one more time. Draco Malfoy does not belong to you, nor you to him.”

 

The figure traced a leather-encased finger down the Gryffindor’s cheek, causing the boy to flinch violently. “I want you to be mine.”

 

Harry closed his eyes, trying to control his breathing. He swallowed thickly before answering.

 

“It’s too late,” he said, trying to push all of his courage into his voice. “Draco and I are already bonded.”

 

The figure stood upright, still and menacing. Black leather covered the entire head, leaving small slits for the eyes and mouth. More leather stretched across a broad chest. Thigh-high boots covered long muscular legs. The person was at least six feet tall. Smooth leather rippled as the figure leaned down, bringing its face level with Harry’s belly.

 

“You must b talking about the newest Potter.” The whites of the figure’s eyes disappeared as they rolled upward to look at Harry. “That can be remedied.”

 

Harry’s shirt was lifted, baring his slight bulge. The figure held the tip of his blade just above Harry’s navel.

 

“Would you like me to remedy that for you?”

 

Harry closed his eyes and shook his head.

 

“No. Please, no.” He pulled futilely at the bonds holding his wrists.

 

“What would you be willing to exchange for you daughters life, Harry?”

 

“Anything,” the brunette gulped.

 

The leather encased figure tilted his face towards Harry.

 

“Anything is quite broad, Mr. Potter. How about we play a game?”

 

“Hasn’t this all been a game?” Harry snapped before he could stop himself. He closed his eyes, awaiting the blow. Instead, the figure stood and let out a hash barking laugh

 

“You are precious, Harry.”

 

With a soft sigh, the laughter ceased.

 

“All I want from you tonight, Harry, is your pleasure.”

 

Harry’s eyes grew wide and his throat ran dry.

 

“It’s not so bad,” the voice soothed, as a hand ghosted over the fly to Harry’s trousers. He began to struggle again.

 

“Isn’t there some other way we can do this?” he pleaded, watching the zip of his fly lower.

 

“This way is so much more fun.”

 

The gloved hand reached inside Harry’s trousers to pull out his soft and highly uninterested member. Harry whimpered in distress, trying to wriggle out of the hand that held him.

 

“Calm down, little one, I intend to make this very pleasurable for you.”

 

Harry closed his eyes tightly.

 

“What are you getting out of this?” he asked through gritted teeth.

 

The figure leaned down so it could whisper in Harry’s ear. “Your humiliation.” The hand on Harry’s cock tightened and began stroking the soft column of flesh in earnest.

 

Harry let out a soft gasp.

 

“Like that, do you?”

 

With his eyes still closed, Harry bit down on his bottom lip and shook his head roughly.

 

“Oh, I think you do.” The hand disappeared for a moment, only to return an abundance of wetness.

 

Harry groaned despite himself as he was worked to a hardness.

 

“Tell me how much you’re enjoying yourself.”

 

Harry opened his eyes, glaring.

 

“Suit yourself,” the voice mocked. The hand disappeared once more in favour of a tight constriction around the base of Harry’s cock. The Gryffindor’s eyes widened in surprise.

 

“What the hell is that?” he squeaked. If the figure hadn’t been wearing a leather mask, Harry would have seen a wicked smile.

 

“That, little one, is a constriction charm. You won’t come until I allow you to come.”

 

“Don’t think for a minute that I’m enjoying this,” Harry ground out. The tip of a single gloved finger stroked down his length, causing him to shudder.

 

“Your body is telling me different, little one.”

 

“Fine!” Harry sobbed after what seemed like an eternity of pressure. The tears began to fall down his cheeks in thick streams. “It hurts!” he whimpered of the purple colour his member was taking on. “Just make it stop.”

 

“You have to ask nicely,” the voice said as the hand began stroking again.

 

“Please,” Harry choked back a sob. “Let me come.” The last had been little more than a whisper.

 

“With pleasure.”

 

The restriction charm disappeared and Harry came in a blinding rush that caused his back to arch up off the surface to which he was bound. With a final sigh, he fell limp against the bonds, eyes closed in blissful unconscious.

 

            Harry awoke for the second time that night near the entrance to the Slytherin common room, in a hidden alcove. He sat up, trying to clear the cobwebs from his mind. The memories flooded back as he stood. Had it not been for the stone wall beneath his palm, Harry would have fallen to the floor.

 

He stumbled through the common room, avoiding the odd stares he was receiving. Draco met him at the doorway to his room.

 

“Where the bloody hell have you been?” Draco asked, ushering the Gryffindor inside before shutting the door.

 

“I… went for a walk,” Harry stuttered, sitting down on Draco’s bed.

 

“A walk?’ Draco’s eyebrows flew up. “You’ve been gone for **three hours**! You never even made it to Dumbledore’s office! Blaise is still out looking for you!”

 

“Stop yelling, my head hurts,” Harry groaned.

 

“I’m sorry.” Draco huffed down next to the brunette. “I was worried about you.” The hand he laid on Harry’s thigh was cast aside as Harry slid himself farther down the bed.

 

“Please don’t touch me,” he said quietly, before pulling his knees up to his chest.

 

Draco’s facial expression hardened, as though he could read the smaller boy’s mind. “Where were you, Harry?” he asked again, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Harry answered.

 

“It was _that person_ wasn’t it?”

 

Harry jumped up from the bed. He gave Draco a glare hot enough to melt ice. “I SAID I don’t want to talk about it.”

 

“Harry, please,” Draco held out a hand, palm up, towards the startled boy. “Did they hurt you?”

 

Harry pursed his lips, staring at the blond for a long moment. Finally, he gave a nearly minute nod. His eyes remained downcast, unable to meet Draco’s silver gaze.

 

“Love, I’m listening.”

 

“The staircase moved,” Harry continued, as if Draco hadn’t said anything. “It was dark. I woke up and I was tied down.” Harry whet his lips.

 

“He threatened to kill Jamie. Then he- he wanked me.” Harry’s onyx eyelashes raised to reveal his eyes. “He made me ask for permission to come.”

 

“Harry,” Draco began. He reached out his hand once more and tentatively laid it on Harry’s shoulder. Harry jerked away so violently, he fell to the floor.

 

“Don’t touch me!” he cried, holding his hands out to act as a buffer. “Don’t bloody touch me.”

 

Unsure of what do to with his hands, Draco stood up and shoved them in his pockets. “I just want to help you,” he took a step closer.

 

“I don’t you three times. I don’t want to talk about it.” Harry’s voice was eerily calm. He stood up with the same façade. “I’m going back to my room.”

 

“At least, let me walk you,” Draco suggested, stepping between his boyfriend and the door.

 

“Get out of my way, Draco.”

 

Harry had never used such a commanding tone before. Draco could only step aside in surprise as Harry walked around him and out the door.


	19. Chapter 19

At breakfast, Harry bounded into the Great Hall. He sat down next to Draco without a trace of his attitude the previous day. Harry’s robes were clean and pressed. Usually, he just picked something up off the floor and pulled it on as he ran out the door.

 

Draco eyed him carefully.

 

“Morning, love,” Harry said, placing a gentle kiss against the blonde’s cheek.

 

“Harry, are you feeling okay?”

 

Harry paused with a syrup and ketchup-covered fork, halfway to his mouth. “I’m fine, why?”

 

He swallowed the bite and went back for more with relish. The plate in front of him consisted of pancakes, eggs and bacon in a scrambled mess topped with – of course – ketchup and syrup.

 

Draco delicately avoided looking at the plate. “I just want to make sure you’re not still mad at me about last night,” the blond ventured.

 

After taking a swig of pumpkin juice, Harry set his mug down and took another bite. He avoided Draco’s gaze carefully the entire time.

 

“We have an exam in Potions today, yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” Draco waved a hand distractedly. “So you’re not mad at me?”

 

“I’ll have to cram in some study time at lunch,” Harry said, pointedly ignoring Draco’s question a second time.

 

Draco sat back in his chair, observing his boyfriend. Harry, finally realizing he was being watched, looked up.

 

“Want some?” he asked.

 

“No,” Draco replied, not bothering to hide his revulsion.

 

            The week passed in a similar fashion. Draco would try to talk about ‘the incident’ and Harry would quickly change the subject. When Draco tried to talk to Ron about Harry, the redhead dismissed him.

 

            “Harry hasn’t been this happy all year. You’re the reason he’s in such a good mood. Enjoy it.” Ron walked away, leaving Draco to his own thoughts.

 

Draco sighed in frustration. Harry might appear to be happy and healthy, but his boyfriend knew better. Something was boiling just beneath the surface and it was only a matter of time before he popped.

 

Harry seemed happy and content as February dawned. The first Friday was conveniently a week before Valentine’s Day. Everyone was busy arranging their Valentine’s gifts. That morning, Draco was absent from breakfast. Harry elected to sit at the Gryffindor table instead. He helped himself to his usual ketchup and syrup concoction.

 

“Hungry, mate?” Ron asked, in a tight voice. Even the toughest iron stomachs curled in the presence of Harry’s cravings.

 

Harry just smiled through his food.

 

Ron shook his head, chuckling to himself.

 

“Post is here,” Hermione announced, pulling her friends away from Harry’s breakfast as a package landed in front of the emerald-eyed boy.

 

“Who’s it from?” Seamus asked, excitedly, leaning across the table.

 

Harry fingered the sparkling gold ribbon holding the otherwise plain-looking package closed. He ran his fingers across the edges of the quaffle-sized box gingerly. “Probably Draco,” he said, more to himself than anyone else.

 

The Gryffindors around him leaned in close to see what gift Harry would reveal. As he peeled back the paper, a burst of smoke blasted into Harry’s face. He tried to shield his eyes, screaming. Nobody could see him through the smoke, but it was clear he was in pain.

 

“Get him to the infirmary!” was heard dimly over the sound of Harry screaming. This his world went black.

 

He drifted in and out of consciousness, registering bits and pieces. At one point, he thought he saw Christopher Rhyahni sitting next to him. Then the image changed. It was Draco instead. Harry groaned and fell back asleep. The line between his dreams and what he was really seeing was terribly blurred.

 

Madame Pomfry filtered in and out of his vision, Harry was sure of that. She was there too often to be his imagination. A particularly disturbing moment, however, involved Rhy. The image was too vividly close to his nightmares to be real.

 

Rhy was dressed in a black cloak that covered him from neck to toe. “Harry, you’re awake,” he gushed, falling to his knees.

 

“Rhy?” The boy in the bed blinked up at him with sleepy eyes. “What are you doing here?”

 

Rhy set a hand down on the bed gently. Harry appeared so fragile in all the sterile white hospital clothes, one touch seemed powerful enough to crumble it all.

 

“I have a confession to make,” Rhy started, licking his lips nervously. “I’ve been,” he coughed, pausing in the story, “following you.”

 

“What?” Harry’s tone was incredulous. He sat up too quickly and fell back against the pillows.

 

“Harry? Harry,” Rhy repeated his name in concern.

 

Harry’s vision swam and he turned his head in hopes of escaping the echoing voice. He covered his face with a hand to shield from the noise.

 

“Harry, are you okay?”

 

Harry cracked an eye and the blurry image above him was white blond. “Draco?” He squinted up at the shape. His glasses were pressed into his hand and he put them on gratefully.

 

“Jamie is fine,” Draco said, before Harry could ask. “How are you feeling?”

 

Harry sighed audibly in relief as the clear image of his boyfriend swam into focus. “A little,” he cleared his throat to relieve the raspy tone from lack of use. “A little queasy.” He looked up at the familiar ceiling of the hospital wing. “What happened?” he asked, turning his attention back to the blond. “The last thing I remember is being in the Great Hall,” he frowned. “Then I had a really weird dream.”

 

“What about?” Draco asked, pulling a chair closer to the bed.

 

“Nothing important,” Harry answered quickly. “Now, tell me what happened.”

 

Draco took a deep steadying breath. “Somehow,” he motioned with his hands in a futile attempt to explain the mess. “Someone found a way to send you a box of burning powder. It blew up in your face.”

 

Harry’s hands automatically flew to his cheeks and forehead. “Am I okay?” he asked in a small voice.

 

“You’re fine,” Draco reassured, carding a hand through the dark locks. “You’ve been out for two weeks, but it gave Pomfry time to reduce the scarring.”

 

“Scarring?” Harry threw his head back in despair. “Just what I need. Another scar.”

 

“Just look,” Draco insisted, conjuring a small mirror. Faint white streaks brushed each of Harry’s cheeks. “You should be grateful. The marks were deep gashes when I brought you in here.”

 

Harry looked over the top of the mirror at Draco. “You brought me here?”

 

Draco nodded. “Nobody else wanted to get close to you.”

 

“I’ve been in here for two weeks?” Harry asked, rolling onto his left side, facing Draco.

 

Draco nodded.

 

“That means I missed Valentine’s Day.”

 

Draco chuckled and shook his head, causing a few strands of blond to fall in his eyes. “You didn’t miss anything exciting, love.”

 

“No,” Harry laced his fingers through the ones resting on his bedside. “But this is the first time I had someone to spend it with.”

 

“You did spend it with me,” Draco pressed a kiss to Harry’s forehead. “You were asleep, though, so you don’t remember it.”

 

Harry, content with the information, snuggled down into the sheets and drifted back to sleep, the fingers of his right hand laced through those of Draco’s own.

 

            Harry was released from the hospital wing later the next day. Pomfry didn’t mention th extra scars on his arms, and for that Harry was grateful. Draco had thoughtfully brought Harry’s Christmas jumper from Mrs. Weasley that the brunette sank into with relief as he pulled the sleeves down past his knuckles.

 

It wasn’t until Harry was carefully situated in Draco’s bed with the blond spooning him from behind, that Draco breeched the subject of Harry’s dream.

 

“So what shook you up so badly about that dream you had?” Draco asked nonchalantly, rubbing his fingertips up and down Harry’s arm.

 

Harry stiffened. “It was just a nightmare,” he answered, shrugging.

 

“It must have been some nightmare to have you acting like this.”

 

Harry rolled over and buried his face in Draco’s bare chest. “I don’t want to talk about it. It was just a bad dream,” he said, before closing his eyes.

 

Draco knew better than to pry and allowed himself to fall asleep as well.


	20. Chapter 20

Christopher Rhyahni had become a very elusive person. Normally, he could be found in the library, or monitoring the halls during when he was on duty. Lately, however, he had taken to restricting his Prefect duties to his own House. His continued absence only made Harry’s anxiety level escalate. 

“It was just a dream,” he said to himself as he rounded the corner and nearly ran into the Ravenclaw. 

“Harry,” Rhy said, backing up. His tone held surprise as he gazed down at the smaller boy. 

Harry self-consciously pulled his robes tighter around his burgeoning middle. He shifted his bag the opposite shoulder and tried to calm his breathing.

“Rhy,” he echoed in a nervous voice. “It’s been a long time.”

“Yes, it has,” Rhy agreed, allowing a smile to grace his handsome features. “I haven’t seen you since you were in the infirmary.”

“The infirmary?” Harry’s voice was suddenly high and tight. It felt like an iron fist had closed around his windpipe and was choking him.

“You probably don’t remember.” Rhy took a step forward and Harry reflexively took a step back. “You were asleep at first. Then I saw your eyelids flutter.” 

He let out a breath and took a step back. He shook his head and smiled down at Harry s though they had just been discussing the weather. “It was silly of me. I just said some things I probably should have waited to say.”

Harry’s breath quickened and he began to hyperventilate. 

“Harry, are you okay?” Rhy asked, concerned, reaching a hand out.

“Don’t touch me!” Harry gasped, backing away from the Ravenclaw. He thrust a hand out on either side of himself, trying to pull the wall around him as a shield. Falling to his knees, Harry tried desperately to pull a steady breath into his lungs. 

“Mr. Rhyahni!” 

McGonagall appeared out of nowhere. “Mr. Potter, are you all right?” She bent down to help Harry, while glaring sternly at Rhy, assuming he was the cause of Harry’s lack of breathing.

Harry started coughing and managed to catch his breath. 

“I’m okay,” he squeezed out.

McGonagall helped him up.

“I need to go to class,” he said quickly, before any more questions could be asked. 

Draco grabbed Harry’s elbow just before the Gryffindor entered the Great Hall for lunch. 

“Don’t do that!” Harry hissed, pulling his arm away.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Draco apologized, burying his hands in the pockets of his robes. 

“I just had a rough morning,” Harry sighed, shaking his head.

Draco’s eyes moved down Harry’s abdomen in question.

“No,” Harry said, before the question could be asked. 

“All right. I just came to ask if you wanted to sit with me today.”

Harry made a face. “Can we go take a nap instead?” he asked, rolling his big green eyes upward. 

“Of course,” Draco answered, with a smile.

Harry took off his robe and laid down on his back, relaxing against the mountain of Draco’s pillows. “I’ve never been this fat before,” Harry frowned, looking down at his belly.

“You’re pregnant,” Draco replied pragmatically, raising an eyebrow.

Harry’s frown deepened. “My jumper doesn’t even fit anymore,” he whinged, vainly attempting to tug the material completely over his football-sized belly to no avail.

“Try this,” Draco said, tossing a new jumper at him.

“A Slytherin jumper?” Harry made a noise of disgust. “I can’t wear this.”

“Who’s going to see it?” Draco countered. He crossed the room and sat down on the bed next to his complaint-riddled boyfriend. “At least it will fit.” 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Harry grumbled, changing his shirt. 

“Of course I am,” Draco answered smugly.

“Quit gloating and lay down,” Harry ordered.

Draco swallowed his sarcastic reply and obeyed the command. He rested on his side, allowing himself access to run gentle fingers over the bulge beneath Harry’s shirt. 

“Do you think she can hear us?” Draco asked quietly, reverently, allowing his hand to still above Harry’s navel. 

“Who?” Harry asked, cracking an eye open.

“Jamie.” Draco cocked his head to the side. A few errant strands of hair fell into his eyes. Harry reached up a hand and pushed the hair back behind Draco’s ear.

“Of course she can.”

Laying his head down on Harry’s chest, Draco curled around Harry’s body. The steady thump of their heartbeats was the only sound in the room.

“Harry?” 

Harry hummed in response, not even bothering to open his eyes. 

“What do you think of a fall wedding?” Draco asked, carding a gentle hand through the silky locks in front of him. 

“Sounds brilliant.” 

Sighing contently, Draco nuzzled the fabric of the jumper Harry wore and relaxed into the embrace. 

Harry laid awake for the duration of the lunch hour. He was unable to roll over, thereby allowing himself to redistribute his weight and fall asleep. 

“Draco,” He shook the blond’s shoulder, trying to prise Draco from his slumber. “Draco, wake up,” he insisted, shaking the blond harder. 

“Tell me when you’re ready to walk out the door,” Draco mumbled.

Harry sighed irritably. “I can’t go to the loo with you on top of me.”

Draco opened his eyes and yawned deeply. He looked up at Harry and quickly sat up when he realized what was going on.

“Sorry,” Draco muttered.

“It’s all right,” Harry answered, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “I just really didn’t want to loose my bladder all over you.”

After Harry relieved himself, Draco escorted him to his next class. Outside the door to Charms, Harry fussed with the collar of his robes. 

“Are you sure nobody can tell there’s green under here?”

Draco smoothed his hands down the front of Harry’s uniform. “At the most, they’ll assume you grabbed my jumper by accident after an intense lovemaking session.”

Red-faced and scandalized, Harry disappeared into the Charms classroom, leaving Draco cackling to himself in the corridor. 

Two weeks later, Harry had his first check up for March. After the routine tests were done, Madame Pomfry asked Draco to wait outside, claiming she had to do a test without ‘outside interference’. 

Once the door was closed, she sat down in front of Harry. “When is the last time you cut yourself?” she asked, expectantly.

“What are you talking about?” Harry made a face and began pulling his shirt on. 

“The marks on your inner thighs, Harry. The blood test confirmed it.”

Harry finished putting his shirt on and faced the medi-witch. “It was an accident,” he stated, firmly. 

“Significant blood loss isn’t good for the baby, Harry.”

The Gryffindor didn’t say anything, but his throat dried up and it became hard to swallow. 

“Draco doesn’t know, does he?”

Looking down at his hands, Harry shook his head. 

“I can give you a potion,” Pomfry said gently. 

“The last thing I need is more medication!” Harry shouted. “I’m sorry,” he said softer. “I’m sorry.” 

Without waiting for a response, he continued. “When I was nine, the Dursley’s found out that I cut myself. They took me to a shrink, who put me on more pills than I could count. I couldn’t even think because my head was so foggy. Vernon knew how overdosed I was. That’s when he-” Harry’s breath hitched as he drew in a breath.

“I hope you understand that I won’t take a potion, nor will I stop cutting. Cutting has been the only thing in my life that I’ve ever been able to control.”

Pomfry nodded, her lips pursed in a tight, firm line. “You’re free to go.”

Harry hopped off the table. “Thank you for not telling Draco.”

“Of course,” Pomfry answered, busying herself with the parchments in her hands.

“Is everything okay?” Draco asked, standing up as Harry shut the door to the infirmary behind him. 

“Yes,” Harry nodded. “Never better.”

“Good.” Draco slid his arm around Harry’s waist, pulling the brunette closer 

“Shall we go find something to do?”

“As long as it involves a soft surface to lay on. My back is killing me.” 

Rubbing his hand up and down Harry’s lower back, Draco was silent for a moment. “How about we go lay in my bed and you can read to me while I rub your feet.”

“Sounds bloody fantastic,” Harry decided, laying his head on Draco’s shoulder. 

Taking Harry’s hand, Draco led them down to his room, where Harry situated himself in the middle of Draco’s bed. 

“Why is your bed so much more comfortable than mine?”

“Slytherin Prefect status, love,” Draco answered, taking a seat at Harry’s feet. “What book do you want to read?”

Harry closed his eyes, mentally running through the extensive collection of titles on Draco’s bookshelf.

“Cinderella,” Harry said finally, opening his eyes.

Draco arched an eyebrow. “You want me to spend my Saturday reading out of the single book of fairy tales - muggle fairy tales - I own?”

Harry’s eyes grew wide and began to glitter with unshed tears. “We don’t have to read it if you don’t want to!” He blinked and the tears streamed down his cheeks in two salty rivulets. Wiping them away in frustration, he drew in a deep breath. “Why is it always about what you want? All I want to do is read a fairy tale!”

“Harry, I’m sorry,” Draco apologized, folding his hands in his lap. “We can read what ever you want.”

“It’s okay.” Harry scrubbed at his eyes with the sleeve of his jumper. “My emotions just keep getting the best of me.” He threw his hands into the air with his last statement. The sleeve of his jumper slid down his arm and Draco caught a glimpse of something underneath.

“Harry, what is that?” Draco asked, leaning across the Gryffindor’s legs. 

“What?” Harry asked, turning his arm over, flicking the sleeve back in place.

“On your arm,” Draco said, reaching for the appendage.

“Nothing,” Harry pulled his arm back instinctively.

“Let me see.” Draco’s hand closed around Harry’s arm. Harry yelped in pain and Draco let go at once.

“Let me see,” Draco repeated, his tone low and threatening.

Harry begrudgingly pulled back his sleeve. A series of freshly cut lines crisscrossed just beneath Harry’s wrist. The cuts weren’t deep enough to be fatal, but shallow cuts always carried a more painful sting. 

“I made those just after I left the infirmary. Before you saw me,” Harry said, softly, without being prompted.

Draco ran his thumb almost reverently over the cuts. 

Harry hissed though his teeth, but didn’t pull away this time. 

“Do you want a bandage?” Draco asked sincerely.

“Yes,” Harry answered, looking up. The pain Draco saw in those green eyes made him want to take Harry into his arms and erase all the pain the young hero ever felt.

“I’ll be right back.”

Draco returned a few minutes later with a bandage and tape. “We don’t exactly have an muggle bandages, so I hope this will do.”

Harry nodded. He watched silently as Draco wrapped the sterile white gauze around his wrist and secured it with tape. Sealing the bandage with a soft kiss, Draco looked up.

“Do you feel better now?” the blond asked, once again pulling Harry’s feet into his lap.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded and gave Draco a small smile. “Yeah, I do.”

He picked up the book of fairy tales sitting next to him on the bed. “Once upon a time, in a land far, far away . . .” 

As they neared the end of the story, Harry’s voice got softer and softer until it faded out of Draco’s hearing. 

“Harry?” Draco questioned, looking up. 

The Gryffindor was sleeping soundly with the book of fairy tales resting gently against the swell of his stomach. Draco carefully pulled the book out of Harry’s lax grip and set it on the nightstand. 

Laying down next to his boyfriend, he closed his eyes and whispered, “and they lived happily ever after.”


	21. Chapter 21

Harry began to cast glamour charms on himself before going to class in the morning. Only his and Draco’s close friends knew about the baby and Harry intended to keep it that way. The only drawback was that the glamours had to be monitored by Professor McGonagall. That meant another person would be keeping an eye on him. Harry was less than thrilled.

 

His professor was usually silent during the exchange. Every morning after breakfast, Harry would hand his wand over as McGonagall cast the necessary spells.

 

“All set, Potter,” she said, handing the wand back to him. She headed for the door. “And Potter?”

 

Harry turned around slowly, carefully.

 

“I received word earlier this week that your ban from Quidditch last year has been lifted. I’m sure the Gryffindor team will graciously welcome you back, perhaps as captain, next year?”

 

A wide grin split across Harry’s features.

 

“Thank you professor,” he said.

 

McGonagall’s lip twitched. If only for a second, Harry could have sworn the old woman smiled at him.

 

            Harry was so excited, he ran nearly all the way back to the common room to tell Ron his good news.

 

“Ron!” he shouted, bursting through the portrait hole.

 

Ron, who had been rushing down the stairs from the dormitory, haphazardly shoving schoolbooks not this back, looked up.

 

“Hey mate,” he said, hefting the bag over his shoulder.

 

“I’m going to play Quidditch next year!” Harry shouted, unable tow wait for Ron to question the source of his excitement.

 

“Blimey!” Ron cried, clapping Harry on the shoulder. “That’s brilliant! Our team has been complete shite without you.”

 

“I heard that!” Ginny, who had been laying seeker in Harry’s absence, called from across the common room.

 

“Like I said,” Ron continued, ignoring his sister’s comment, “we’ve been complete shite.”

 

Ginny gave the duo a two-fingered salute as they walked past her, which Ron returned in kind.

 

            Their morning classes were filled with much discussion and note passing of game strategies for the fall season. They were still talking Quidditch when Draco met them on the way to the Great Hall for lunch.

 

“Keep trying Weasley, but Slytherin will still tromp you. Even with Potter back on the team,” Draco bantered good-naturedly.

 

“Don’t worry, Ron,” Harry cut in. “Malfoy here can’t tell the difference between the snitch and his bullocks. He’s no match for me.”

 

Draco pulled Harry in close to him. “I’d rather catch your bullocks than a snitch any day,” he smouldered into the brunette’s ear.

 

Harry’s face flushed scarlet and Ron made a face.

 

“Don’t tell me. I might not be able to choke down my lunch, if you do.”

 

“For you Weasley, that’s saying something,” Draco quipped.

 

Harry grabbed his arm and pulled the laughing Slytherin into the Great Hall, leaving Ron with a decidedly sick look on his face.

 

            “I can’t believe you said that in front of Ron today,” Harry sighed, as he stepped into Draco’s room later that night.

 

“Said what?” Draco asked distractedly, pulling off his boots.

 

“That you wanted to grab my bullocks,” Harry said.

 

“Maybe I do,” Draco replied, stalking forward.

 

Harry squeaked as his calves hit Draco’s bed and he sat down. Draco came to stand between Harry’s legs. Placing his hands on Harry’s knees, he slid them higher as he leaned forward.

 

“Finite Incatatem,” he whispered, sealing Harry’s lips in a kiss.

 

Easing Harry back on the bed, Draco was careful to keep his weight on his knees around Harry’s body. The bump that was invisible moments before was now cradled gently between their bodies.

 

“You’re beautiful,” Draco murmured, trailing a finger down Harry’s cheek.

 

Harry squirmed nervously under the intense gaze. Draco kissed him again and Harry groaned into his mouth. Rolling sideways onto the bed, Draco tugged on Harry’s arm.

 

“I don’t want to hurt the baby,” he answered Harry’s questioning gaze.

 

Ever so gently, Harry laid his full weight down on Draco’s body. “Am I hurting you?” he asked, his eyes darting nervously upward.

 

“Love,” Draco drawled, “you could never hurt me.” He fisted the hair at the nape of Harry’s neck and drew him down for a kiss.

 

Harry made a noise in the back of his throat.

 

“Did I hurt you?” Draco asked, pulling away quickly.

 

“No,” Harry answered, his expression dazed, “that was great.” He laid his head down on Draco’s chest, dousing any attempt Draco had at getting any more action. “Can I stay here tonight?” he asked without lifting his head.

 

Draco hesitated. “Blaise is going to be here, but I don’t mind.”

 

“S’no diff’rence t’me,” Harry mumbled.

 

Draco gently extracted himself from Harry, once he was sure the brunette was asleep. He sat down at his desk to wait for Blaise. Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait very long.

 

Blaise opened the door, and upon seeing Harry, gently shut it behind him.

 

“Can we talk?” Draco whispered, standing up.

 

Blaise nodded, and followed his friend up to the common room.

 

            “What’s wrong with Potter?” Blaise asked, taking his usual seat in front of the fire.

 

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Draco studied his nails, carefully avoiding Blaise’s eyes.

 

“The Gryffindorks kicked him out, didn’t they?” Blaise’s tone mocked.

 

“What?” Draco looked up. “No!” Draco ran a hand through is hair. “He’s got -- problems.”

 

“Other than the fact that you knocked him up?”

 

Draco scowled. “I’m serious, Blaise.”

 

The Italian shrugged a shoulder. “Go on,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “You have my full attention.”

 

Draco waited a moment before speaking, to ensure Blaise was serious. The brunette just sat still, looking at Draco expectantly.

 

Taking a deep breath, Draco let it out slowly. “Harry cuts himself.”

 

Before Blaise could cut in with his own assumption, Draco continued. “He’s got scars all over his arms. He’s been doing it since before he came to Hogwarts. That’s why he never rolls the sleeves of his jumper up in Potions.”

 

Blaise sat back in his chair, digesting the information. Long minutes ticked by. Finally, he leaned forward, steepling his fingers together.

 

“Have you told Professor Snape?”

 

“No!” Draco cried, incredulous.

 

“McGonagall?”

 

“No.”

 

“Pomfry?”

 

Draco shook his head.

 

More insistently, “Dumbledore?”

 

Another shake.

 

Blaise sighed. “Then what do you expect me to do?”

 

“Help me decide what to do,” Draco sighed resolutely.

 

Blaise stared into the fire for a moment, watching the crisp orange flames dance over the log they were consuming. “It’s consuming him,” he said finally.

 

Draco sneered. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

 

Blaise held his hands in front of him in defence. “You came to me,” he admonished.

 

“Draco.”

 

Draco looked up. Harry was standing in the doorway to the common room wrapped in the heather coverlet from Draco’s bed. The blond Slytherin gave an apologetic look to Blaise and stood up.

 

“Are you okay?” he asked, coming to stand in front of Harry.

 

“Yeah,” Harry shrugged. “I woke up and you were gone. I just wanted to make sure you were coming back.”

 

“Go back to bed, Harry,” Draco said, smoothing the duvet down Harry’s chest. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

 

Nodding, Harry kissed Draco on the cheek and left him alone with Blaise.

 

As Draco sat back down, Blaise whistled low through his teeth.

 

“Have I mentioned he’s been abused?” Draco scoffed, his anger directed at Harry’s muggles. “I’m going to bed.”

 

“Next time you choose a Gryffindor, Malfoy, make sure he’s mentally stable.”

 

Draco gave him a two-fingered salute as he left the room.

 

            By the end of March, Draco wasn’t any closer to a solution for Harry, and Blaise was about as helpful as a prediction in Trelawney’s class. Draco had discussed the situation with his godfather once more, but Severus was still adamant that he wouldn’t touch Harry “while the boy is with child”.

 

That left Draco with only one person to turn to for help. Unfortunately, that particular person wasn’t even on speaking terms with him.

 

Draco sighed for the fifth time. “I **told** you. Harry Potter is my boyfriend. Just let me in to see him.”

 

“Absolutely not,” the fat lady replied. “Under no circumstances will I allow a **Slytherin** into this dormitory.”

 

Draco scowled, resisting the urge to kick the offending portrait. “How about I just transfigure my robes into that sickly maroon colour? Then what?” he mocked.

 

The fat lady ignored him, instead pretending to be asleep.

 

“Bloody Gryffindors!” he growled, kicking the wall.

 

“Can I help you, Malfoy?”

 

Draco spun around, half-sighing when he saw the person he had been searching for. “I know you probably hate me right now,” he started, “but I really need your help, Granger.”

 

Hermione considered him for a moment shifting the stack of books balanced carefully on her hip. “Come on,” she said finally.

 

The fat lady gave them both a scowl of disapproval as Draco entered the Tower. Hermione led him through the common room and down a long corridor to a door with her name on it. At Draco’s snort, she said, “I’m Head Girl, Malfoy. Don’t think Slytherins are the only ones with special privileges around here.”

 

Draco shrugged non-commitedly and followed her into the room. Following in the same trend as with his own room, Hermione’s was decorated in deep slate blue and grey, favouring Ravenclaw colours much more than her own Gryffindor.

 

“Sit,” Hermione commanded, pointing to the straight-backed chair in front of her desk while she took a seat on the bed. “All right, let’s hear it.”

 

Draco took a deep breath and began the story. When he finally finished, the Head Girl was nearly in tears.

 

“I can’t believe he would do that to himself,” she said, dabbing at her eyes. “Do you think that’s why he went with you that night?”

 

Draco held a hand up. “I have my own issues with that, but yes, I believe so.” He paused a minute. “What do you think we should do?”

 

“ **We** ,” Hermione emphasized the word, “are not going to do anything.” Before Draco could protest, she continued. “You need to tell Harry how you feel about the situation. If he never tells anybody who has been threatening him, he’ll be threatened for the rest of his life.”

 

Draco sighed. He knew Hermione was right, he just didn’t know how to convince Harry.

 

            “Good evening, gorgeous,” Draco said, sidling up to Harry on his way into the Great Hall that night.

 

“Hi,” Harry said, giving Draco a bright smile. He slid his arm around the blonde’s waist in a rare display of public affection. “Care to join me for dinner?”

  
“Actually,” Draco stopped just before the doors to the Great Hall. “I thought we could have dinner in my room.” Giving Harry’s hip a light squeeze, he added, “Just the two of us.”

 

“Okay,” Harry agreed, turning his face upward for a kiss.

 

Draco obliged him. “Just like that?” he asked, uncertainly.

 

“Just like that,” Harry nodded.

 

            “Where is Blaise?” Harry asked, eyeing the banquet laid out on the table Draco conjured.

 

“With a Gryffindor,” Draco answered elusively, lighting the candles on the table with his wand-tip.

 

Harry raised his eyebrows. “A fifth year?”

 

“Sixth year,” Draco corrected.

 

“It’s not Lavender, is it?” Harry guessed, ignoring the pumpkin juice Draco set in front of him.

 

Draco took a bite of his dinner before answering. “Lavender doesn’t have a cock.”

 

Harry nodded once. “I thought so.”

 

Draco let out a barking laugh. “You make it sound like Blaise is the only one who favours blokes or did you know that I’m not a bird?” he asked, with a wink.

 

Harry gasped and his hand flew to his mouth in feigned shock. “You mean your roommate is a **pouf**?” he cried from behind his hand.

 

Draco just rolled his eyes at Harry’s antics. “Actually,” he said, reaching across the table to take Harry’s hand, “there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

 

Harry’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth. He set the fork down slowly and met Draco’s eyes. “Are you breaking up with me?” he asked, quietly.

 

“What?” Surprised, Draco pulled his hand away.

 

Harry pulled his own hand away and folded them both in his lap. Looking down, he whispered, “I understand.”

 

“Harry, no,” Draco said, shaking off his surprise. “I’m not breaking up with you,” he said.

 

Harry nodded, but he didn’t look up.

 

Draco scrubbed at his eyes. The mood was ruined. Harry had revered back into himself. There was no use sugar-coating what he was trying to say. “Harry you need to talk to someone.”

 

“About what?” Harry asked innocently, pushing the uneaten food around his plate.

 

“Talk about whatever is on your mind.”

 

“You mean my cutting,” Harry answered in the same quiet tone.

 

“If that’s on your mind, then yes.”

 

“It’s not on my mind; it’s on your mind.” Harry dropped his fork with a loud clatter. “I don’t want to talk about that,” he said, meeting Draco’s gaze evenly.

 

“Well, I do,” Draco said, sending the challenging tone right back.

 

“I know who it is,” Harry changed the subject, dropping his gaze back down to his plate.

 

“You know who **what** is?” Draco asked, throwing his hands up in frustration.

 

“I know who has been following me.”


	22. Chapter 22

Draco stood up from the table. He walked to the door, around his bed, and back to the table. Finally, he sat back down across from Harry. Placing his chin in his palm, he said, “Okay, who is it?”

 

“You have to promise me you won’t tell anyone.”

 

“You know I can’t do that,” Draco said, shaking his head.

 

“Then I can’t tell you.” Harry pushed his plate away. “I’m not very hungry any more.” He took a long sip of pumpkin juice and set the glass down on the table carefully. “I’m rather tired. Could you just tell me what you set all of this,” he gestured to the table decorated in food, candles and flowers, “up to tell me?”

 

Draco threw his hands up. “I talked to Granger, okay! You need to get some help before you’re either killed or you kill someone!”

 

“Oh!” Harry exclaimed, jumping up. “Who am I going to bloody kill?”

 

“I don’t know,” Draco mocked, standing up as well. “Maybe yourself or our **unborn child**!”

 

“Fuck you,” Harry said in a deadly quiet voice, before disappearing out the door.

 

“Harry, wait!”

 

By the time Draco got up and round the table and out the door, Harry was already gone.

 

            When he ran out of Draco’s room, Harry went to the first place he could think of in his blind rage.

 

“Professor!” he called, pounding on the door. “Please open up!”

 

He gave one last futile knock with his open fist. Turning around, he slid down to the floor. The door opened and Harry jumped up in surprise, wiping the tears away with the back of his hand.

 

“Potter, you had better tell me what you are doing knocking on my door when we both know you should be in the Great Hall with the rest of the students.”

 

Crossing his arms over his chest, Harry raised his chin defiantly. “Can I at least come in?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

Snape narrowed his eyes. Nonetheless, he stepped aside to allow Harry entrance to his office.

 

“I need your help, Professor,” Harry started, walking into the room only far enough to allow Snape to shut the door.

 

“I already told Mr. Malfoy that I will not assist the altering of your psyche until you are no longer with child,” Snape answered smoothly.

 

“It has nothing to do with that,” Harry snapped. “I don’t want you in my head anyway.”

 

Snape’s lip curled into a sneer. Harry never saw him draw his wand. “Ligiliemens!”

 

Harry was shoved into the chair behind him with the force of the spell. Instantly, the two of them were sucked into Harry’s memories.

 

            A dark room. Strong hands had Harry pinned face-first into the wall. The body of his captor was much larger and kept him pinned efficiently. The only sound in the dark room was Harry’s harsh breathing through his nose. His scarlet and gold Gryffindor tie was being used as a makeshift gag.

 

“Don’t move, Potter.”

 

A whispered word and another tie, this one streaked in blue, held his hands up over his head. The large calloused hands rucked his blouse up around his armpits before smoothing themselves down the expanse of tanned skin. Harry squirmed in futile effort to rid himself of the touch.

 

“So eager.”

 

Harry’s movements stilled as the hands slid farther down to unbuckle his belt.

 

“This won’t hurt,” the voice said, as Harry’s trousers fell to the floor with a _thunk_. A small whimper escaped his bound mouth.

 

Hot breath on the back of his neck was the only warning Harry got before he was spread open and a blunt tip prodded his entrance. The intruder slid all the way in and Harry let out a muffled cry of anguish.

 

After a few tight thrusts, a hand made its way from Harry’s hipbones to his uninterested member. The captor buried himself within Harry’s body before stilling his movements completely. A couple strokes and Harry was up to full hardness.

 

“That’s it, Harry,” the voice said, timing his thrusts with his strokes.

 

With a strangled cry, the captor spilled himself within Harry’s body moments before Harry reached his own climax, as silent tears coursed down his cheeks. The man behind him gave one final thrust before untying his hands and spinning Harry around.

 

As he re-knotted his around his neck, Christopher Rhyahni regarded Harry with a calm look.

 

“I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that you wouldn’t want Draco,” the name rolled off Rhy’s tongue as though it left a bad taste in his mouth, “to find out his pet Gryffindor came with another man’s cock in his arse.”

 

The image shifted.

 

            “Hey Golden Boy!” Draco called.

 

Harry spun around, eyes lit. He rushed forward, burying his face in Draco’s shoulder without an explanation.

 

“Whoa,” Draco said, wrapping his arms around the shaking Gryffindor. “What happened?” he asked, leading Harry down the hallway to a private alcove.

 

“He made me strip down, Draco,” Harry mumbled into the blonde’s robes. “He saw my new cuts.” Harry looked up, as tears made tracks down his reddened cheeks.

 

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Draco swiped at the tears gently with his thumb.

 

“Don’t make me go back there,” Harry pleaded.

 

            The images faded and Harry was once again sitting in Snape’s office. He looked up wide-eyed at the Potions Master.

 

“Why did you do that?” Harry asked, his voice on the edge of breaking.

 

“I. . .” Snape trailed off, his sarcastic comments for once at a loss. With his wand held limply in his right hand, he sat down in the nearest chair. “You have my sincerest apologies, Mr. Potter. That was completely out of line.”

 

He cast his eyes downward, an act of submission foreign to his dark features.

 

“Please don’t tell Draco,” Harry requested softly. “He doesn’t know.”

 

Snape looked up in surprise. With a sigh, the professor wiped the obsidian hair from his eyes. “Am I correct in assuming that I am the only person who knows what transpired between yourself and Mr. Rhyahni?”

 

“Yes, Sir.”

 

“Sit, Potter,” Snape said, pointing to the chair in front of his desk.

 

Harry sat.

 

“We must go to the Headmaster at once,” Snape began.

 

“No,” Harry replied vehemently, shaking his head. “I’ll deny every word you say.”

 

“Potter,” Snape tried again, “I cannot allow one of my students to be terrorized by another student, despite my,” his lip curved, “opinions.”

 

“I. . . I’ll tell him myself,” Harry managed.

 

Pursing his lips, Snape regarded the boy in front of him. “Despite my hardest efforts, I know you better than that. You’ll no sooner tell the headmaster than confront Mr. Rhyahni yourself. No, I think we’ll go see him right now.”

 

Harry suddenly jumped up out of his seat. “Finite Incantatem!” he shouted, rolling up the sleeves of his robes. “Have I mentioned that I cut myself?” he sneered. “Or that I’m pregnant?” Harry gestured to the now-visible belly beneath is robes. “And before you ask - no it’s not Rhy’s. It’s Draco’s.”

 

Snape had to fight to keep his face calm. Instead, he stood up and poured himself a measure of fire-whiskey. He threw it back before pouring himself another, which he drank just as quickly. After composing himself somewhat, he reclaimed his seat in front of the Gryffindor.

 

“Why did you come here, Potter?” Snape asked, folding his hands on the desk.

 

“I don’t know,” Harry answered, flopping back down in the chair. “I had a fight with Draco.”

 

Narrowing his eyes, Snape retorted, “I am not here to council you about your relationship problems with my godson.”

 

“That’s why I cam here.”

 

Snape raised an eyebrow.

 

“I knew that you, more than anyone, would give me your honest opinion without sugar-coating anything.” Harry paused. “Granted, I didn’t expect to tell you quite as much as you found out.”

 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Snape closed his eyes. “I feel a headache coming on. Could you please get to the point in all of this?”

 

Harry wrung his hands nervously. “I wasn’t expecting to tell you any of this,” he took a deep breath. “Rhy didn’t act alone. His accomplice wanted - wants Draco.”

 

At the mention of Draco’s name, Snape sat up straighter. “Who is after Draco?”

 

Harry looked down at his lap.

 

“Pansy Parkinson. They were betrothed before all this,” he said softly and the whole story came tumbling out. “It started with Pansy. Funny, she was trying to kill me.”

 

Harry was looking off in the distance, an odd look on his face.

 

“But then Rhy got involved. Dumbledore had assigned him to - search me - every day to ensure I hadn’t cut myself. One day, he happened upon an episode between Pansy and me. They made a deal. Pansy would stop trying to kill me if Rhy would get me away from Draco. Ever since, he’s been - touching me - in an effort to seduce me.” Harry fell silent and once again lowered his gaze to his lap.

 

“You must think I’m some kind of slag.”

 

Instead of answering Harry’s assumption, Snape said, “stand up, Potter. We’re going to speak with the Headmaster.”

 

“No!” Harry jumped up, meeting Snape’s narrowed eyes. “Just let me tell Draco first. I don’t want him to have to hear it from somebody else.”

 

Snape stared at Harry for a long moment. “Very well,” he said, nodding. “I shall expect you and Draco at my door at precicely 10 o’clock, or I shall proceed to the Headmaster’s office alone. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Potter?”

 

“Yes, Sir,” Harry answered.

 

            When Harry got back to Draco’s room, the Slytherin was sitting on his bed with a muggle fag hanging from his fingertips. He took a long drag and let it out slowly before he looked up and saw Harry standing in front of him.

 

“Harry,” he breathed, snubbing the fag out. “I didn’t think you were coming back.” Nervously, he slid his palms down the lap of his slacks.

 

Harry moved from the doorway to stand in front of his boyfriend. “I just needed some time to think.”

 

“About what?”

 

Harry took a seat on the bed. “Nothing you should worry that pretty blonde head about,” Harry said, tucking a strand of flaxen hair behind Draco’s ear. “I’m tired and I’m tired of fighting. I just want to go to sleep.”

 

“Okay,” Draco answered, standing up. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

 

“Actually,” Harry replied, kicking off his shoes. “I’d like to stay here tonight, if that’s okay with you.”

 

“Of course,” Draco answered, dropping his pack of fags as he hastened back to the bed.

 

Sliding beneath the soft heather sheets, Harry regarded Draco with a calm smile. “You’re acting as though we’ve never spent the night together.”

 

“Not after a fight,” Draco answered, crawling beneath the sheets as well.

 

“Maybe I’m turning over a new leaf.” Harry murmured. Rolling onto his side, he requested, “Just hold me, Draco.”

 

With a soft _lumos_ , Draco embraced his lover and closed his eyes.

 

            Harry awake with a start at daybreak, breathing heavily. Sitting up, he wiped at his sweat-drenched brow. He looked over at Draco, who was sleeping peacefully next to him. He leaned down and kissed the blonde boy gently on the fore head.

 

Standing up, Harry crossed the room to the bathroom. He closed the door gently and stood still for a moment to assure Draco was still asleep. Confirming that the Slytherin hadn’t stirred, Harry stretched his arm up above the mirror.

 

His fingers closed on the object of his searching. Pulling his hand back to himself, he now held a broken shard of Sirius’ mirror.

 

“Please forgive me, Draco,” he whispered. “You’re going to hate me later either way.”

 

            Draco woke a couple hours later when Harry crawled back into bed.

 

“Where were you?” Draco asked, opening his sleepy grey eyes.

 

“I got up to get some water,” Harry answered, pulling the duvet up over himself. “Stupid me dropped the glass and it shattered on the floor. When I bent down t pick it up, I sliced my palm open.” He lifted his hand to show Draco the bandage.

 

Draco nodded out of obligation. He closed his eyes and pulled Harry’s uninjured arm around his body. “Be careful next time, baby,” he said, clearly still sleeping.

 

“Draco,” Harry purred into the blonde’s neck, “you need to get up.”

 

Draco nodded without opening his eyes.

 

“Seriously.”

 

Harry untangled himself from Draco and pulled the duvet completely off the bed. Draco groaned, curling into his silk pyjamas.

 

“Draco!” Harry shouted, “Snape is here and he’s not happy about seeing you in your knickers!”

 

Jumping up, Draco sought Snape out wildly. His eyes fell on Harry, who was barely containing his laughter at Draco’s wild appearance. Scowling, Draco stalked to the bathroom and slammed the door.

 

“I love you too, sweetheart!” Harry called.

 

A grunt from behind the door was his only response.

 

While Draco showered, Harry busied himself with getting dressed and making the bed to keep his mind of the conversation he and Draco were about to have. When Draco finally emerged in a cloud of steam Harry was sitting on the bed, wringing his hands nervously.

 

“What’s wrong?” Draco asked, draping his towel over the hook on the bathroom door.

 

“Sit down, Draco.” Harry kept his eyes on the other boy. “I need to tell you something very important.”

 

Without his usual sarcastic remarks, Draco sat down and allowed Harry to take his hands.

 

“Christopher Rhyahni and Pansy Parkinson are the people who have been following me.” As calmly as he could manage, Harry began telling Draco the story he told Snape the previous day. When he finished, Draco pulled his hands away and just sat there, staring at nothing.

 

“Are you going to say anything?” Harry asked quietly.

 

“What do you want me to say?” Draco shouted. He stood up, facing away from Harry.

 

“I don’t know,” Harry whispered, tracing patterns on the duvet with his fingertips. “I’ll go then.”

 

As he stood up, Draco turned around to face him. The aristocrat’s face was red and his cheeks were slick with tears. Upon seeing Harry, his red-rimmed eyes filled once more. “I’m so sorry, baby,” he choked out wrapping his arms around the brunette.

 

Harry melted into the embrace, allowing the tears to fall from his own eyes.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Draco kept repeating.

 

They held each other until the sobbing subsided. For Draco, it was finally coming to an end. However, for Harry, the rest of his life was just beginning.


	23. Chapter 23

Snape was waiting or Harry and Draco when they ventured to his office just minutes before ten o’clock. He regarded them with a hard stare.

 

“Shall we?” he asked, without a hint of amusement.

 

Harry nodded.

 

            “Hello boys. Severus,” Dumbledore said softly, giving them each a nod. “To what do I owe this visit?”

 

“Sit, Potter,” Snape said, taking a chair on the other side, so the Gryffindor would have no escape.

 

Draco sat as close to Harry as possible, trying to impart a small measure of reassurance.

 

“Professor, Harry has been harassed by a couple of students here at Hogwarts for the past five months,” Draco started.

 

“Graceful, Malfoy,” Snape muttered.

 

Dumbledore either ignored the Potions Master or failed to hear the comment. “What do you mean? Who has been hurting you, Harry?” the older wizard asked quietly, turning his calm blue eyes to the only Gryffindor in the room.

 

Harry looked up at the Headmaster over the rim of his spectacles, before lowering his eyes once more to his lap.

 

“Christopher Rhyahni and Pansy Parkinson. . .” Harry recounted the tale he had told Draco earlier, although he left out a few things that weren’t very pertinent to Dumbledore’s version of the story.

 

When he finished, Harry sat straight up in his chair and raised his eyes. He shrugged a shoulder indifferently. “That brings the three of us here.”

 

Dumbledore nodded once. His normally calm eyes were filled with a fire that Harry had never seen before.

 

“Very well. Severus, I thank you for bringing this matter to my attention.”

 

“Of course, Headmaster.”

 

“Severus, I‘m sure you would be obliged to escort Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter back to their dormitories?”

 

“Of course, Headmaster,” Snape answered smoothly.

 

“Good,” Dumbledore said. “You are dismissed.”

 

            As they left the office, Harry could just make out the sound of a firecall. “Bring them to me. . .” The door clicked shut.

 

Snape left Harry and Draco with a short nod. “I trust, Draco, the two of you can find your way back to your rooms without my help?”

 

“Yes, Sir,” Draco answered, taking Harry’s hand once more.

 

Snape’s eyes flicked downward, but he said nothing. “Good day.” He turned down the corridor and left the couple to their own devices.

 

“Are you okay?” Draco asked, nuzzling his cheek against the top of Harry’s head.

 

“I want to lie down,” Harry ans2ered, leaning against the taller boy. “Let’s go to my room.”

 

Draco stepped back to look at Harry. “Are you sure? What about your roommates? And the other Gryffindors?”

 

“They’re all in Hogsmeade.” He gave Draco a shy smile. “Besides, you’ve never been in my bed before.”

 

“You cheeky ponce,” Draco answered with a smirk.

 

            Harry led Draco to Gryffindor Tower in silence.

 

“Slytherin stinks,” Harry said to the Fat Lady.

 

Draco raised an indignant eyebrow.

 

“Ron’s idea,” Harry answered, beaconing Draco through the portrait.

 

Looking around the scarlet and gold common room, Draco gave a low whistle of appreciation. “Not too shabby, Potter.”

 

However, Harry wasn’t listening. He was already halfway up the staircase.

 

“Come on, Draco,” he said, his tone betraying his body’s fatigue.

 

The Slytherin obliged, following Harry up to the sixth year dormitory.

 

“This is it,” Harry said, allowing the door to swing open into the empty room. “Five beds, five trunks, five blokes. Nothing special.”

 

“You’re showing me the place where you’ve wanked every night for the past six years and you say it’s nothing special?” Draco scoffed, pushing past the Gryffindor. He turned around and squealed with glee. “I’ll bet this one is yours,” he sighed, flopping down face-first onto the gold-threaded duvet.

 

“That’s Ron’s bed,” Harry answered, with a hint of amusement, as he laid himself down on his own bed.

 

“Oh, you think you’re funny?” Draco asked, jumping up.

 

“Oh yes.” Harry grinned up at the blond.

 

“I’ll show you funny,” Draco countered, jumping onto the bed, careful not to pin any of his weight on the smaller boy as he began to tickle him mercilessly.

 

“Oh, Draco, stop!” Harry yelled out through his laughter. “Ouch, Draco! I’m serious!” he cried, as he bandaged hand was caught in the crossfire.

 

Draco immediately pulled himself up and off Harry, afraid he had injured the baby somehow. “Are you okay?” Draco asked, his hand hovering over Harry’s belly nervously.

 

Harry just shook his head as he sat up, trying to catch his breath.

 

“Baby, I’m sorry,” Draco apologized, rubbing a hand down Harry’s back.

 

“I’m okay,” Harry answered, leaning back against Draco’s shoulder. “Just don’t let it happen again,” he chided.

 

Once Harry caught his breath, he laid down on his bed, curling into Draco’s warm body. They slept like that until the other Gryffindors came back from Hogsmeade.

 

“Blimey! Harry’s got a bloke in his bed!”

 

“It’s not a bloke, it’s just Malfoy.”

 

“Malfoy is still a bloke.”

 

“Okay then, _Harry’s_ bloke.”

 

Harry groaned and squinted his eyes open. “This is why I stopped sleeping in here.”

 

“We forgot to close the curtains,” Draco sighed into Harry ear.

 

“Leave off, guys, Harry doesn’t feel well,” Ro admonished, throwing Harry’s curtains closed, bathing the couple in darkness.

 

“That’s better,” Draco whispered, nuzzling his face into the hollow of Harry’s shoulder.

 

“I’m going to be sick,” Harry whispered, throwing Draco’s hand off himself. He stood up and dashed out of the room as fast as his body would allow.

 

“I thought they called it morning sickness,” Draco muttered. He tentatively stepped out of Harry’s bed, full prepared to face the onslaught of the sixth year Gryffindors. Fortunately, only Ron was left in the dorm.

 

“Where did they all go?” Draco asked the redhead, who was reading a Quidditch magazine on his bed.

 

“Dunno,” Ron answered, flipping a page.

 

Draco nodded. He began to fiddle with the cuff on his robes when it became apparent that Ron wasn’t going to make small talk until Harry came back. “Has Harry said anything to you about Rhyahni or Parkinson?” he finally blurted out.

 

This time, Ron had the decency to lower his magazine. “No, why?”

 

Draco glanced at the doorway. “I probably shouldn’t be the one to tell you.”

 

Ron’s ginger eyebrows knitted together in concern. “You can’t very well stop now.”

 

Draco looked to the door once more before sighing deeply. “The short version is this: Rhyahni and Parkinson teamed up to break Harry and me apart. I’ve been betrothed to Parkinson since before I was born.”

 

He waved Ron’s stunned expression away.

 

“Trust me; I’m not marrying that cow.” He continued, “Anyway, Rhyahni thought that he could seduce Harry’s affections out of him. What he wasn’t counting on was Harry’s abusive past.”

 

He raised an eyebrow at Ron’s red face.

 

“What are you planning to do, Weasley? Track Rhyahni down and hex his bullocks off?” Draco smirked when Ron pulled a face. “We’ve already been to Dumbledore. When he’s finished, then _I_ will hex Rhyahni’s bullocks off.”

 

Ron’s reply was cut short as Harry chose that moment to re-enter the room.

 

“Feel any better, love?” Draco asked.

 

Harry gave him a half-shrug in response.

 

“Are you going to dinner, mate?” Ron asked.

 

“No,” Harry replied, clutching his stomach. “Any mention of food is going to send me straight to the loo.”

 

Ron shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’m starved.” He made his way to the door, but stopped and turned around with his hand on the knob. “How about you, Malfoy?” he asked, as an afterthought.

 

“No, thanks,” Draco smiled politely. “I’ll just stay here with Harry.”

 

Ron gave a small wave before he allowed the door to click shut behind him.

 

Draco turned to Harry, who was staring at him quizzically.

 

“What?”

 

“You and Ron are getting along. Who died?”

 

Despite himself, Draco let out a laugh at the serious look on Harry’s face. “Aren’t I supposed to be chummy with my boyfriend’s best mate?”

 

Harry narrowed his eyes. “You and Ron have hated each other since you met in first you. So, no, you aren’t supposed to be chummy. What happened Malfoy?”

 

“Calm down,” Draco soothed, trying to prevent a dangerous mood swing. “We just started talking about Quidditch when you ran to the loo.”

 

“Quidditch?”

 

“Just Quidditch.”

 

            Dumbledore summoned Harry and Draco to his office the next morning after breakfast. Harry hadn’t eaten since the previous morning, but he’d thrown up twice. Draco chalked it up to nerves more than the pregnancy.

 

“Are you sure you can handle this right now?” Draco asked, on the way up to the Headmaster’s office.

 

“I don’t have a choice,” Harry answered gruffly. He led them up the stairs after a sighed, “acid pops”. Upon entering the office, Harry was faced with two Aurors from the Ministry, and Cornelius Fudge himself.

 

“Oh, no,” he said, shaking his head as he backed away from the men.

 

Draco caught him in his arms. He took the Gryffindor’s hands in his own and used the advantage to wrap Harry’s arms around his own body, effectively pinning him to Draco.

 

“Relax, Harry. They’re just here to help.”

 

Harry shook his head. He struggled in Draco’s grasp, but finally gave up when he realised Draco wouldn’t relent.

 

“I think we’ll just stand, Professor,” Draco told Dumbledore, resting his chin on Harry’s shoulder.

 

Fudge cleared his throat nervously. “Right then,” he said, twirling his bowler in his hands. “We are here to collect a statement from Mr. Potter. All we need is to have him verify the information Professor Dumbledore has given us. Under Veritaserum, of course.”

 

“No potions.”

 

All eyes turned to Draco, who gave him a wide don’t-fuck-with-me smile. “Surely, you could just evaluate his memories, Sir?”

 

“Memories can be tampered with, Mr. Malfoy.” Fudge talked down to Draco as though he was speaking to a very small child. “The effect of Veritaserum is flawless.”

 

“With all due respect, Sir,” Draco retorted, “Due to the fact that Veritaserum is both odourless and colourless, how are we to trust the validity of a potion you claim to posses?”

 

Fudge’s lip twitched. “I’ll thank you, young man, not to question my authority as Minister of Magic.”

 

“And I’ll thank you Minister, to produce a consent form sighed by Harry’s guardians to allow the administration of Veritaserum. He is only sixteen.”

 

Fudge’s face turned a deep shade of puce as he was bested by a student less than half his age. Flustered, he slammed his lime bowler down on his absurdly round head. “We’ll be going now, gentlemen,” he told the accompanying Aurors.

 

“Good day, Headmaster,” Fudge said, before disappearing with a sharp crack.

 

The Aurors disappeared right behind him.

 

Once they were gone, Harry appeared to melt into Draco’s arms. “Thank you,” he said, breathing a great sigh of relief.

 

“A hand very well played, Mr. Malfoy,” Dumbledore said softly.

 

“My father has been teaching me wizarding law since I was in grammar school.” Draco shrugged indifferently, releasing Harry. “’Malfoys are always prepared’ was my mantra growing up.”

 

“Sound advice,” Dumbledore agreed, nodding. “Are you all right, Harry?”

 

“Yes, Sir,” he answered.

 

“Good.” Dumbledore pursed his lips. “I’ll send for you later, but you are both dismissed for now.”

 

When they were outside the door, Draco took Harry’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Harry smiled up at him and squeezed his hand back.

 


	24. Chapter 24

Dumbledore didn’t send for Harry until two days later in Potions class. The class was as terrible for Harry as usual. Snape had already vanished his “foul concoction that has no place in a classroom” before assigning him a two foot essay about the importance of paying attention to detail in Potions class.

 

As Harry began piling his books back into his bag, a first year Ravenclaw stepped into the room. “Professor Snape, Sir,” the boy stammered, “Headmaster Dumbledore would like to see Harry Potter, please, Sir.”

 

Harry looked up at the Potions Master, waiting for permission.

 

Snape narrowed his eyes. “You heard the boy.”

 

Harry wasted no time gathering his things. As he walked toward the door, he threw a glace back at Draco. The Slytherin stood up.

 

“You will remain in class until you finish your potion, Mr. Malfoy.”

 

Draco sat back down. He gave the brunette an encouraging nod, to which Harry responded with a weak smile.

           

            The first year left Harry at the gargoyle entrance to Dumbledore’s office with a whispered word that caused the statue to jump out of he way. As Harry climbed the stairs, he was filled with trepidation. By the time he got to the door to the headmaster’s office, he was nearly hyperventilating.

 

“Come in, Harry,” Dumbledore said, motioning through the open door.

 

Harry closed his mouth and started breathing through his nose, hoping to calm himself. As he stepped through the threshold, the door clicked shut behind him. Harry jumped at the noise and his head reflexively jerked to the right. Christopher Rhyahni sat there, looking as innocent as ever.

 

“Hullo, Harry.”

 

Harry’s eyes grew wide. He began shaking his head slowly, before gaining speed. He squeezed his eyes shut.

 

“No, no, no, no, no,” he pleaded, back up. Harry tried the doorknob to no avail. “Harry-” the Headmaster tried, over the young wizard’s shouting. Harry wasn’t listening. He gave up on the doorknob in favour of pounding on the door.

 

“Please let me out. Please, please, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’ll be good.”

 

The door opened and Harry fell into Draco’s arms, sobbing. “Just **what** is going on in here?” Draco asked over Harry’s shoulder.

 

“It seems,” Dumbledore said quietly, “that Mr. Potter isn’t as stable as he would like us to believe.”

 

Their next stop was the infirmary, despite Harry’s vehement opposition. Rhy told Harry to feel better, to which the Gryffindor eloquently replied, “Go find somewhere else to stick your cock, you fucking rapist.”

 

It took three doses of a calming draught to finally get Harry to sit still and allow Pomfrey to asses him.

 

I’m going to give him this,” she said, handing a small blue bottle to Draco. “This should help with the episodes. Harry is suffering from delusions. In stressful situations, his mind reverts back to his abusive past.”

 

Draco nodded. Harry sat stoically next to him, thoroughly intoxicated with the potions Pomfrey had given him.

 

“He needs to take three drops daily on the tongue. After we see how he reacts, we’ll adjust the dose accordingly.”

 

“This isn’t going to hurt the baby, is it?”

 

“No,” Pomfrey said. “The only side effect is an increase in appetite.” She glanced over Harry’s thin frame. “In this case, a few extra meals would be highly recommended.” She raised her wand. “Enervate.”

 

As though waking from hypnosis, Harry blinked his eyes, looking around. “Was that completely necessary?” he hissed. “You might as well have put me under a full-body bind. It would have given you the same effect.”

 

“Harry,” Pomfrey said gently, “I just need you to take one dose of the medication and you’re free to leave.”

 

Harry narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. He jerked the bottle out of Draco’s hand and dispensed three drops on his tongue. “There. Are we all happy now?” he mocked, before storming out of the infirmary.

 

Draco stood up, but Pomfrey placed a hand on his arm.

 

“Give him some time. Go have dinner and let him calm down.”

 

Draco nodded begrudgingly. He thanked Pomfrey for her help and left the infirmary.

 

            As he entered the Great Hall, Draco scanned the Gryffindor table to no avail. Dinner was a quiet affair after that. Blaise was conveniently absent, which forced Draco into an awkward conversation with forgotten friends. He left earlier than everyone else begging off a headache. The truth was that he just wanted to see Harry.

 

Draco opened the door to his bedroom, reading to question Harry about his absence from dinner. The words died on his tongue when he saw Blaise and Seamus curled up on Blaise’s bed. Confusion settled on Draco’s delicate features.

 

“Where’s Harry?”

 

“I haven’t seen him all day, mate,” Blaise answered.

 

“He was in the room when I left for dinner,” Seamus chipped in. “Is something wrong?”

 

“No,” Draco answered, schooling his features. “No problem.” He turned and left Blaise and Seamus to themselves.

 

            By the time Draco got to Gryffindor Tower, he had run out of reasons for Harry to be mad at him. He approached the Fat Lady with his most charming smile.

 

“Good evening, my dear, Fat Lady.”

 

“Slytherins are not permitted access to this dormitory,” she answered, sniffing indignantly.

 

Draco shrugged indifferently. “I came to see you, actually.”

 

The Fat Lady turned to the blond with interest. “Really?”

 

“Of course,” Draco answered. “I had to see for myself if you were truly as beautiful as everyone has been saying.

 

The Fat Lady batted her eyelashes. “So, am I?”

 

“Between you and I,” Draco leaned in to the portrait. “Words alone cannot describe your beauty.”

 

“Oh, my dear, boy!” The Fat Lady crooned. She fanned herself with a hand. “You’re making me blush!”

 

Draco’s grin widened. “Actually, I’m the one who should be blushing in the presence of such a gorgeous woman.”

 

“Oh, stop!” the Fat Lady sighed, waving a hand.

 

“I cannot possibly,” Draco simpered. “You hair is like a golden sunrise. And your eyes are like the deep blue sea.”

 

“Oh, what I wouldn’t give to be young again.”

 

“Would you be willing to give up the password?”

 

“Oh you,” the Fat Lady laughed.

 

“Actually, could you do me a favour, love?”

 

“Anything,” the Fat Lady swooned, resting her chin on one hand as she gazed adoringly at the Slytherin.

 

“You see, my girlfriend is a Gryffindor. She asked me to help her study Arithmancy. She’s a fifth year, see. She’s not doing well in the class. Since I have the highest marks, there was no way I could say no when she asked me to help. What’s a boyfriend for, right?”

 

“And such a gentleman, at that,” the Fat Lady added.

 

“Right.” Draco continued, “She gave me the password so I could help her study, and now I’ve forgotten it.”

 

“Oh,” the Fat Lady giggled. “The password is ‘Chudley Cannons’. But, of course, I can’t tell you the password.”

 

“Naturally,” Draco agreed. “Chudley Cannons.”

 

Despite the Fat Lady’s protesting, the portrait swung open and Draco clamoured through. A few curious Gryffindors looked up.

 

“Just here to see Harry,” he said, dismissing them with a wave of his hand.

 

Draco climbed the stairs and stopped at the sixth year boys’ dormitory. Taking a deep breath, he knocked softly on the door. When he received no response, he tried the knob. Thankfully, it was unlocked.

 

Draco stepped into the dark room and closed the door behind him. He lit his wand tip with a whispered, ‘lumos’. All the beds were empty, except for Harry’s bed, where the Gryffindor lay sleeping peacefully. Draco crossed the room in three quick strides to kneel beside Harry’s sleeping form. He laid his wand down gently on Harry’s bedside table. His eyes roamed over the small boy who barely looked his age.

 

Harry lay on his side, one arm curled protectively around his belly. Draco frowned when he saw the white handkerchief tied around Harry’s arm. He lifted a hand to reveal the damage, but a soft voice stopped him.

 

“Please don’t.”

 

Draco looked up.

 

Harry’s eyes glowed a deep jade in the dim wand light. “It helps me sleep,” he said, covering the bandaged arm with his other hand.

 

“Why didn’t you go lay down in my room?” Draco asked, smoothing the fringe away from Harry’s forehead.

 

“I thought it would be quieter in here.”

 

“Here?” Draco quirked and eyebrow. “You live with four other blokes. How could you expect it to be quiet?”

 

“I just wanted to be alone, okay?” Harry’s tone betrayed his agitation. He rolled away from Draco and closed his eyes.

 

“You would have been alone in my room.”

 

“Draco!” Harry rolled over onto his back, slamming his uninjured hand onto the bed. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about! If I went to your room, either you or Blaise would be there to baby-sit me like I’m a toddler or something.”

 

“Harry.”

 

“No.” Harry said, “Let me finish. I came up here because I didn’t think you would be able to show up. I cut myself with a razor when I came up here, Draco. It’s in the bottom of my trunk, pressed between the pages of ‘Quidditch Through the Ages’, if you want it. You might as well compare my habit to smoking a fag, or having a wank. It helps me sleep.

 

“The other morning when I woke up early and told you I need a glass of water, I lied. I didn’t drop the glass and cut myself. I left a blade in your bathroom so I could cut. I cut myself on purpose so I could sleep.”

 

When he finished, Draco sat back on his heels. “I thought you slept well with me beside you.”

 

Harry sighed and struggled to sit up. When Draco reached out to help, Harry glared at him. “I can do it myself,” he growled, pulling the pillow out from under himself roughly, to prop it against the headboard.

 

“Don’t mollycoddle me, Draco,” he said, crossing his arms above his belly. The effect he was aiming for was somehow lost, however. “I’ve gotten on for sixteen years without anyone’s help and I don’t need yours now.”

 

“Harry, what’s gotten in to you?”

 

“Your spawn,” Harry glowered.

 

Draco pursed his lips and counted to ten silently before opening his mouth. “I don’t know why you’re mad at me,” he said, finally.

 

“Oh, you are **so** self-absorbed!” Harry cried, throwing his hands in the air.

 

“What do you want me to-”

 

“Get out.” Harry’s tone was low and dangerous.

 

“What?”

 

“Get out!”

 

When Draco rose to his feet, but continued to stand in front of Harry, staring, the Gryffindor shouted at him, “I said ‘get out!’”

 

Draco could barely mask the hurt and confusion that filled his eyes, before he left the dormitory, allowing the door to click shut softly behind him.

 

Left alone in the dark, Harry curled into a foetal position and allowed himself to cry.


	25. Chapter 25

Wednesday morning, Draco woke up alone in his bed. He rolled over, in his half-awake state expecting to find Harry, before he realized the brunette was missing. With a sigh, he pulled himself out of bed and headed down to breakfast.

 

As he was leaving the Great hall for his first class, Draco caught sight of Hermione in the crowd.

 

“Oi! Granger!” he called.

 

The girl looked over her shoulder. Upon seeing who was calling her, she turned back around, but slowed her pace.

 

“What is it, now, Malfoy?” she asked, through gritted teeth.

 

“Have you talked to Harry?” he asked, jogging slightly to keep up with her quick pace.

 

“Yes,” she answered, evasively.

 

“Is he mad at me?”

 

“Yes and no,” The Gryffindor prefect answered, turning the corner.

 

“Oh, what’s that supposed to mean?”

 

Hermione stopped in her tracks, almost causing Draco to run into a group of Hufflepuffs. “It means he needs some space. Harry will deal with his problems in his own time. The last thing he needs is you breathing down his neck. Let him come to you.”

 

Draco waited until the beginning of April for Harry to “come to him”. They hadn’t spoken since their last fight and it made Draco anxious. The only thing that kept him sane was the sight of his ring on a chain around Harry’s neck.

 

Despite himself, Draco had to admit that Harry looked better than he had all year. His colour had gotten better, and although his pregnancy remained hidden underneath a glamour, the hollowness in his cheeks started to fill out. Draco could only stand by and watch as Harry reclaimed a life that did not include him.

 

Just as he had taken Ron’s place in Harry’s life much earlier in the year, now Ron had taken his place. Draco’s parents weren’t helping the situation any, either. They were continually bothering him about “officially” bringing “the Potter boy” home during spring hols. Draco didn’t have the heart to tell them that he and Harry were no longer speaking. Instead, he told them that Harry had yet to make a decision.

 

Finally, Draco got an owl.

 

Draco-

 

I got permission to go to Hogsmeade this weekend. I’m going to be at The Three Broomsticks at three with Ron and Hermione. If you want, you could meet me there.

 

-Harry

 

When Draco got the letter, he looked across the Hall, searching Harry out from between Ron and Hermione. The brunette looked up, and a lock of hair fell over one emerald eye. Draco itched to brush it away. Harry inclined his head to the right slightly, and raised his eyebrows. Draco gave him one slight nod. A small smile bloomed on Harry’s face before he slipped back into the conversation with his fellow Gryffindors.

 

Draco was nearly bouncing with excitement by the time Saturday arrived. He elected to go to Hogsmeade with Blaise and Seamus, which was a much more attractive option than going alone. They spent the day walking around the village, enjoying each other’s company. Just as Harry had lost touch with his best friend, Draco had missed spending time with Blaise. Fortunately, Seamus blended well between the two Slytherins.

 

            The couple left Draco at the Three Broomsticks at five minutes to 3 o’clock.

 

            “Don’t scare him off, mate,” Blaise said, clapping Draco on the back.

 

            “I’ll try not to.”

 

            “Just treat him the way you’d treat any bloke on a first date,” Seamus added, fussing with Draco’s collar.

 

            “But this isn’t our first date.”

 

            Seamus jerked on the collar, pulling Draco’s face to him.

           

            “To him, it is.”

 

            Draco nodded in acquiescence. With one last once-over, Seamus pushed Draco towards the entrance. Taking a deep breath, Draco ducked into the dark pub. He stood by the door for a moment, allowing his eyes to adjust.

 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat in a far booth in the corner. They didn’t see Draco as he crossed the room towards the, but Harry looked up when Draco stopped in front of their table.

 

“Mind if I sit down?” he asked, forcing himself to smile.

 

Harry said nothing, but slid over so Draco could take the seat next to him.

 

“Thanks for inviting me,” he said, looking at Ron and Hermione.

 

“No problem,” Harry answered, taking a swig of his butterbeer.

 

“Can I get you something, dear?” Madame Rosmerta asked, stopping at their table.

 

“Just a butterbeer, please,” Draco replied.

 

Once the owner was gone, Draco folded his hands on the table to keep himself from playing with them out of anxiety. The awkward silence was broken by Hermione.

 

“So what did you do all day, Draco?”

 

Draco cleared his throat. “I just walked around with Blaise and Seamus. You guys know they’re dating, right?”

 

“Of course we know,” Ron answered.

 

Draco just nodded. “Of course.”

 

Fortunately, Madame Rosmerta brought his butterbeer just then. Draco took a long swig, gratefully.

 

“What are you doing tonight?” Harry asked suddenly, turning to the Slytherin.

 

Draco chocked on his butterbeer and had to take another drink before he could answer. “Nothing, why?”

 

“We need to get going,” Hermione said suddenly.

 

“What? We just got here,” Ron protested.

 

Hermione elbowed him in the side.

 

“Ouch! What did you do that for?”

 

“We’re leaving, Ronald,” Hermione said, pulling her boyfriend out of the booth. “We’ll see you later, Harry. It was nice seeing you as well, Draco.”

 

“Nice to see you too,” Draco said, at the same time Harry said, “See you.”

 

“So, I’m not doing anything tonight,” Draco repeated, trying to get Harry back to his train of thought without directly asking him.

 

“I was wondering if maybe we could go somewhere and talk,” Harry replied, staring at the worn tabletop.

 

“Sure,” Draco answered, with a shrug.

 

“I was thinking maybe we could talk in your room,” Harry suggested, raising his eyes to Draco’s.

 

Draco had to clench his teeth together to keep his jaw from dropping. “Of course,” he answered tightly.

 

Harry pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and began to chew it nervously. “If you want to go somewhere else, we can. Or if you don’t want to talk, I completely understand. I’m sure you’ve got plans already, anyway. The Slytherins are always-“

 

“Harry,” Draco interrupted, placing his hand on the Gryffindor’s. “You’re rambling.”

 

“Sorry,” Harry answered, gently pulling his hand away. “Do you- ah- mind if we go now?” he asked, setting his empty bottle at the end of the table.

 

“Sure,” Draco answered. “Let me finish this,” he said, pressing his own bottle to his lips. Quickly, he knocked back the remainder of the butterbeer and set this bottle down next to the other. He stood up and offered Harry his hand out of habit. “Ready?”

 

“Yes,” Harry answered, although he chose to ignore the hand Draco offered and took his time standing on his own.

 

“How far along are you, now?” Draco asked quietly.

 

“Twenty-nine weeks,” Harry answered. “Pomfry says I have about 10 weeks left, provided everything goes well.”

 

Draco pulled the door open, and allowed Harry to leave first.

 

“Is everything going well?” he ventured, as they started up the path toward Hogwarts.

 

“As well as can be expected. I’ve put on a bit of weight, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

 

“Indeed,” Draco nodded. He failed to mention that he had been watching Harry every day since their fight.

 

The two teenagers chatted surprisingly easily all the way back to Draco’s room. Draco felt an uneasy sense of déjà vu as he held the door to his room open for Harry. The Gryffindor walked slowly across the room, trailing his fingertips over Draco’s soft grey duvet. Instead of sitting down, like Draco expected him to do, he elected to sit in the overstuffed armchair next to the bed.

 

“My back has been killing me lately.” He said, lowering himself into the chair gently.

 

Draco sat down across from him on the bed. “Would removing the glamour be too much to ask?” His voice nearly cracked with emotion.

 

“Actually, I was going to ask if you would mind. It’s a lot easier to deal with my new shape if I can actually see it.” Harry drew his wand out of his pocket and cast the necessary spells. His robes suddenly filled out as if he had been wearing his invisibility clock over his midsection. “That’s better,” he said, smoothing the material out.

 

Draco bit back a sigh. “What did you want to talk about?” he asked, instead.

 

“I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting,” Harry admitted, holding Draco’s gaze. Seemingly all traces of his previous anxiety were gone. “I’ve been taking the potion Madame Pomfrey gave me and I’ve been doing much better. I haven’t had an episode in nearly three weeks.”

 

“Great,” Draco answered, automatically.

 

“I can’t do this alone, Draco. Ron and Hermione have been great, but I miss you. I’m tired of fighting.”

 

Draco looked down at his lap, the back up at Harry. “Me too.”

 

Harry shrugged. “I just don’t know where this leaves us. Are we back at the beginning for a third time? A fourth time?”

 

Draco shook his head. “No,” he stated firmly. “We are just where we need to be.” After a moment’s hesitation, he took a hold of Harry’s hands. “I never want you to be afraid to talk to me if something is bothering you, okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

Draco pulled his hands away this time. He stood up and shoved them deep in the pockets of his trousers. “Harry, do you want to come home with me for spring hols?” he asked, suddenly.

 

Harry’s head jerked upward. “What?”

 

“You’ll get to stay in my guest rooms, of course. Mother and Father have just been bothering me about bring you home. I wasn’t going to ask you before, because, well we weren’t talking. But I understand if you don’t want to, I mean-“

 

“I’ll go.”

 

“I understand,” Draco continued, completely oblivious to Harry’s answer. “Of course you wouldn’t want to- what?” He stopped in the middle of his monologue, as he realized what Harry had said. “You’ll go?”

 

“Yes,” Harry nodded, smiling.

 

“Oh, Harry.” Draco dropped to his knees, wrapped his arms around Harry’s legs and laid his head against the Gryffindor’s belly. “I promise you won’t regret this. You or Jamie.”

 

“We had better not,” Harry chided playfully, as he carded his fingers through Draco’s baby fine hair.

 

The next Friday, Harry met Draco in the Great Hall with the rest of the students who were going home over the break.

 

            “That’s all you’re bringing?” Draco asked, gesturing to Harry’s school bag.

 

“I don’t need much. Besides, I shrank most of it.”

 

Draco shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said, handing his trunk over to the house elves. “Ready?” he asked, turning back to Harry.

 

“Ready.”

 

Harry surprised him by taking his hand on the way to Hogsmeade. Draco did his best to mask his surprise, although he almost giggled in pleasure, when Harry failed to release his hand upon their boarding of the Express. Fortunately, Malfoys do not giggle.

 

They chose a compartment close to the end of the train. Just as they settled down, someone knocked on the door. Draco groaned inwardly.

 

“Yes?” he called, his voice conveying more irritation than he intended.

 

The door slid open and Blaise and Seamus stood there, grinning like fools. Draco broke into a genuine smile.

 

“I thought you two were staying,” he said, stepping back so the two boys could enter the compartment.

 

“Last minute plans,” Seamus explained. “Me da’ got a free trip to the States from work. He told me to bring Blaise with me, and that was a suggestion I couldn’t pass up.”

 

“Nice.” Draco nodded, approvingly. He sat down next to Harry, allowing Blaise and Seamus to take the bench across from them.

 

“So you’re going home with Draco, eh Harry?”

 

“I suppose,” Harry said, looking at Draco sideways with a small smirk.

 

“Oy, Draco’s a good chap. He’ll take care of you.”

 

“In bed, he will,” Blaise muttered into his closed fist.

 

The tips of Harry’s ears turned scarlet.

 

“Come on now guys. The last thing I need is for Harry to jump off the train before we get out of Hogsmeade.”

 

“Don’t worry, Draco,” Harry said, sitting up straighter. “It’s going to take more than Blaise’s comments about the sex he’s not going to get over break to make me leave.”

 

“Oooh,” Blaise gave a low whistle. “The kitten’s got claws.”

 

“Touché, Potter,” Draco chuckled.

 

The group bantered pleasantly back and forth for several hours. During one particular lull in the conversation, as Draco was staring out the window at the green countryside, he felt something hit his shoulder. When he looked over, Harry’s thick raven head was resting on his shoulder as the Gryffindor slept.

 

Looking across the compartment, Draco confirmed that he was the only person still awake. With a contented sigh, Draco laid his head down on top of Harry’s and closed his eyes. He awoke sometime later to Harry’s voice.

 

“Draco, wake up. We’re at King’s Cross.”

 

With a start, Draco pulled his face out of the cushion and sat up. “Where’s Blaise?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep.

 

“He and Seamus left already,” Harry answered. “We tried to wake you up, but you were sound asleep. They told me to tell you goodbye.”

 

Draco nodded, wiping the sleep from his eyes. “Well, let’s get on. Mother and Father will be waiting.”

 


	26. Chapter 26

As it turned out, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were not waiting for Harry and Draco when they stepped off the train, much to Harry’s surprise.

 

“My parents are always too busy to pick me up from the train. That’s why they always send,” he paused mid-sentence and his eyes lit up.

 

“Marjorie!” he exclaimed, running into the arms of a woman old enough to be his mother, but clearly not Narcissa Malfoy. “Harry,” Draco announced, turning around, “I would like you to meet my nanny, Marjorie.”

 

Harry couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face. “You have a nanny?”

 

Draco made a face. “She’s been my nanny since I was born, Potter.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes, stepping around Draco. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” he said, taking Marjorie’s hand. “My name is Harry.”

 

“Well, Draco, at lease you’ve found someone with manners,” Marjorie said, giving Harry a pleased once-over. “Come on now, your parents are waiting.”

 

She pulled a small brass key out of her pocket. “Alright, you two, make sure you’ve got a finger on it.”

 

When Harry and Draco did as they were told, Marjorie said firmly, “Home.”

 

With a familiar pull behind their navels, Harry, Draco and Marjorie were deposited in the main hall of Malfoy Manor.

 

“Welcome home, Harry,” Draco said, spreading his arms wide.

 

Harry found he could only gape at the magnificent architecture. The room in which they were standing was nearly as large as the Great Hall and decorated with adornments twice as expensive.

 

“Peach!” Marjorie called out.

 

With a loud crack, a house elf dressed in a tea cosy appeared before them.

 

“Peach, take Master Harry and Master Draco’s things to their rooms.”

 

Reluctantly, Harry allowed Peach to take his bag, along with Draco’s trunk, that he didn’t remember seeing arrive.

 

“It’s good to have you home, Draco,” Marjorie said, hugging the young blond. “You too, Harry,” she added, giving the Gryffindor’s shoulder a squeeze.

 

“Come on, Harry” Draco said, taking his hand. “I’ll show you your rooms.”

 

Harry dutifully followed as Draco led him up the grand staircase at the end of the hall, up the stairs to the left, down a hallway, a right, another right, another set of stairs, and a left, where they finally came to a dead end.

 

“These are my rooms,” Draco said, pointing to the door on the left. “And these are my guest quarters.”

 

He opened the double doors, and led Harry into a sitting room decorated in calm grey and navy tones. The room’s only furniture was a low table, two armchairs and a settee, but the simplicity was elegant.

 

“The loo is through that door,” Draco pointed to a set of doors on the right. “And this is the bedroom.”

 

He opened another set of double doors across from the entrance and Harry had to stifle his gasp. A large bed- much larger than his bed at Hogwarts- dominated the centre of the room. He ran his hand over the duvet gently.

 

“It’s made from _______ down. The sheets are silk.”

 

Harry nodded, although his attention had turned to the French doors leading to a balcony on his left. He rested his hand on the handle, but did not open the door.

 

“This view is incredible,” he gushed.

 

Both the windows in Draco’s guest room, as well as the ones in his own quarters looked out over the rolling expanse of the Malfoy estate’s front lawn. A long sloping driveway curled up to the front door from a wrought iron gate bearing a large “M”.

 

“I love this room, Draco. Thank you.”

 

Draco gave him a bright smile. “I thought you would. Do you want to see my rooms?”

 

Harry nodded, begrudgingly pulling himself away from the window.

 

He followed Draco across the hall to a set of rooms that looked similar to the guest quarters, only in the architecture. Draco’s sitting room had two armchairs, a settee, and a table. IT also had a fish tank that dominated the entire left wall.

 

“Draco, this is beautiful.”

 

The blond smirked. “If I were you, I’d hold my applause until I saw the bedroom.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes. He followed Draco once more, and his jaw actually dropped when he saw what his boyfriend had been gloating about. His bed was a four-poster made of a deep chestnut. Charcoal and grey covered the bed in a mound of pillows.

 

“Do you like it?”

 

In reply, Harry climbed up onto the bed, and curled around a few pillows. “This is heaven,” he sighed.

 

“As much as I would love to crawl up there with you and sleep for days, my parents are waiting for us.”

 

Harry groaned audibly. “Come lay with me,” he insisted. “Your parents will still be here tomorrow.”

 

Draco turned and headed for the door. “Let’s go, Harry.”

 

“What if I said my back hurts?” Harry asked, pouting.

 

“I’d say you’re a liar, and I’ll rub your back later for you. Now get up.”

 

Harry huffed and pulled himself off the bed slowly. “It really isn’t as easy for me to lie down, as you think it is.”

 

“I’m sorry, love, but my parents don’t like to be kept waiting.”

           

            Narcissa rose delicately and lady-like from her seated position in the drawing room.

 

“Draco, it’s so good to see you,” she said, giving her son a hug.

 

Harry stood nervously to the side, trying to avoid Lucius’ gaze.

 

“Harry,” Narcissa said, taking his hands. “Let me have a look at you.” She gave the boy an appraising stare and frowned. Harry’s stomach clenched. “I thought you said he was with child,” Narcissa said, dropping Harry’s hands and turning her accusing blue eyes on Draco.

 

“He is, mother,” Draco said. “Harry, drop the glamour.”

 

Biting his lip, Harry fished his wand out of his pocket and cast the incantation, allowing his robes to fill out once more.

 

“They allow you to cast glamour charms at Hogwarts, Potter?” Lucius drawled, stepping up to stand beside his wife.

 

“Yes, sir,” Harry nodded, struggling to hold Lucius’ gaze. “I have special permission from Dumbledore.”

 

Lucius harrumphed. “Of course, you do.”

 

“Lucius,” Narcissa hissed. Louder she said, “Have a seat, we need to discuss the details of this . . . arrangement.”

 

Harry shot Draco a confused look. Draco sat down and patted the seat next to him. _Trust me_ , his eyes said. Harry sat. Nervously, he turned his gaze to Draco’s parents.

 

“When are you going to have the engagement party?” Narcissa asked, smoothing her dress over her lap.

 

“After the announcement, of course,” Lucius said, giving Draco a pointed stare.

 

Harry’s eyebrows knitted in confusion. He glanced at Draco, who appeared unconcerned.

 

“Some time this summer. July or August, because we’ll want to do it after the naming ceremony.”

 

“Naming ceremony? What are you on about? Jamie has a name, already.” His voice got softer. “And you said we would announce our engagement when we were ready,” he said the last for Draco’s ears only.

 

“No grandchild of mine will be introduced to the wizarding world without a naming ceremony.” Lucius declared, narrowing his eyes.

 

“I don’t even know what a naming ceremony **is**!” Harry shouted, throwing his hands into the air.

 

“A naming ceremony is just a formal affair to introduce a pureblood child into the wizarding world.”

 

“Well, why is it so important?”

 

Before Lucius could murder Harry with his glare, Narcissa interrupted.

 

“Harry, a naming ceremony is the same as an engagement ceremony. It will just be a fancy party, here at the Manor, with all of the elite from wizarding society to honour the newest Malfoy and Draco and you.”

 

“We never agreed that Jamie’s last name would be Malfoy.”

 

This time, Lucius very nearly flew out of his seat.

 

Draco stood up and stepped between his father and Harry. “Father, Harry and I need to have a discussion of our own before we have this one.”

 

Although his face was red with anger, Lucius merely pursed his lips and nodded. Draco quickly pulled Harry to his feet before the older Malfoy could change his mind.

 

“That child’s name had better be Malfoy when you return,” Lucius ground out between clenched teeth.

 

            Harry didn’t speak the entire way back to Draco’s room. He even elected to sit in one of the armchairs in the sitting room, rather than on Draco’s bed, which he had become attached to so quickly.

 

“You’re mad at me.” Draco said, sitting down on the settee.

 

Harry drew in a breath and let it out through his nose. “No,” he corrected. “Mad would be if you had already made these decisions with Lucius yourself. Irritated is you didn’t tell me about any of this and I’m expected to know.”

 

“Harry-” Draco sighed. “I’m sorry. I take for granted that you weren’t brought up in proper wizarding society the way I was.”

 

“Proper.” Harry snorted. “No, I wouldn’t exactly consider a cupboard under the stairs ‘proper’, would you?”

 

“Harry, I’m trying to help you understand.”

 

“And I’m trying to help **you** understand that I **don’t**! I don’t know why any of this matters! And Jamie’s last name will **not** be Malfoy.”

 

“What?” Draco’s grey eyes flashed. “She already **is** a Malfoy. Denying that right would be ludicrous.”

 

“Denying her the right of being a Potter is ludicrous.”

 

Draco rubbed at his temples in frustration. He scrubbed his hands over his face and took a deep breath before facing Harry again.

 

“I’m not trying to deny her the right of being a Potter. I just know that she will have better opportunities in life if her name is Malfoy. It will also make it easier for her to gain her inheritance.”

 

Harry’s face fell. He knew he had been defeated. Drawing in a shaky breath, he closed his eyes and lowered his chin, nodding once. “Fine.” His voice was tight and choked.

 

Draco’s brows knitted in confusion. “Harry?”

 

Harry sniffed in reply.

 

Draco’s voice softened. “Harry, are you crying?”

 

Harry shook his head, but Draco couldn’t see anything past his unruly mop of hair. Draco stood up and perched himself on the arm of the chair Harry was sitting in. He carded his fingers through the hair at the nape of Harry’s neck. “Look at me, love,” he whispered.

 

Again, Harry shook his head. Draco cupped Harry’s cheek in his hand and gently lifted to look into his puffy red eyes. Seeing the tears rolling down Harry’s cheek caused the tears to sting in Draco’s eyes as well.

 

“Please don’t cry,” he said, wiping at the tears with his thumbs. “Tears don’t look good on you.”

 

Harry shook his head once more and he drew in a shuddering breath. “Please don’t,” his breath hitched, “take this from me,” he said unsteadily.

 

“Jamie’s name?” Draco asked.

 

Harry nodded as more tears streamed down his cheeks. “It’s the only thing my parents have to,” he drew in another breath and let it out slowly, “offer.”

 

“Oh, Harry,” Draco pulled him into a hug and Harry buried his face in the blonde’s shoulder. “Would you be okay with a hyphen?” he whispered.

 

Harry smiled into Draco’s robes before nodding a final time.

 

            Harry followed Draco to the dining hall, pulling at the tight collar around his neck uncomfortably.

 

“Why do I have to wear this bloody thing?” he asked, jerking at his dress robes.

 

Draco smoothed his hands down Harry’s chest. “You look stunning. Besides, it will make my parents happy. Dressing for dinner is just good etiquette.” Draco’s hands came to rest on Harry’s belly. “Thank you for agreeing to leave off the glamour.”

 

Harry shrugged. “I told you, it’s more comfortable anyway.”

 

Dinner went better than Draco had expected. His parents were polite and Harry was gracious. It was only when dinner ended that Draco became worried.

 

“Harry,” Lucius said, setting his napkin on the table, “won’t you join me in the study?”

 

“Of course, Father,” Draco answered, quickly, standing up. “We would love to join you.”

 

“Sit down, Draco. The invitation was not extended to you.” Lucius corrected. “Harry?” he asked again.

 

Harry, who had kept his eyes carefully trained on the lace tablecloth, flicked them nervously to Draco. The youngest Malfoy gave him a small nod.

 

“Come to my room when you’re finished.” He stood from the table and gave Harry a soft kiss on the cheek before disappearing out the door.

 

“Well then. Shall we?” Lucius asked, standing up.

 

“Yes, Sir,” Harry answered quietly.

 

When they got to the study, Lucius shut and locked the door.

 

“I do not wish to be disturbed,” he explained.

 

Harry nodded weakly, sinking down into once of the chairs in front of Lucius’ desk.

 

“I’d offer you some brandy, but not in your condition,” he said, pouring himself a measure. He sat down behind the desk and set the glass in front of him. “Do you love my son, Harry?”

 

“What?” Harry asked, caught off guard.

 

“My son. Do you love him?”

 

Harry nodded slowly. His eyes glazed over as he thought about Draco’s smile, his determination, and his unconditional love for both Harry and their unborn child. He cleared his throat.

 

“Yes. I do love your son.”

 

Lucius gave him a rare smile.

 

“Yes, I can see it in your eyes.” He took a sip from his glass. “As- understanding- as I am of this union, I still have one reservation.”

 

Harry knotted his hands together nervously. “What is that?”

 

“Draco is the sole heir to the Malfoy fortune. It is his job to make sure the line stays intact. Although you have conceived a child together, it is a girl who will grow up and marry into another pureblood family.”

 

Harry managed to bit his tongue, allowing Lucius to continue.

 

“This is not a request, Harry,” Lucius said unkindly, taking another sip from his glass. “Before I am dead, you and Draco will produce a male child, or I will make sure you and your daughter are erased from the Malfoy family completely.”

 

Harry kept his stare even. He also managed to prevent his hands from shaking. “My daughter and I don’t need your bloody charity or your demands.”

 

Harry rose from his chair.

 

“If you walk out that door, you can forget about marrying my son,” Lucius growled.

 

Without looking behind himself, or responding to Lucius’ comment, Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand. “Alohamora,” he whispered, ignoring Lucius’ soft sigh as the lock clicked out of place.

 


	27. Chapter 27

Harry left Lucius’ study with tears blinding his sight. Several missed turns and a couple of flights of stairs left Harry in a frustrated mess at the end of a long hallway with no outlet, no doors, and no windows. He threw himself to the ground, pushing the fringe out of his eyes in irritation.

 

“This was such a bad idea.”

 

He tossed his head back against the wall behind him with a loud _thunk._

“I want,” he hit the wall again, “to go home,” and again.

 

The wall sighed, groaned, and began to give way beneath Harry’s slight form. The brunette scrambled to his feet and turned around. His eyes grew wide as he tentatively stepped into his bedroom. The wall behind him sealed itself up as though it had never moved.

 

“I was wondering when you were coming back. That entrance is handy, yeah?”

 

Harry’s attention was drawn to where Draco sat in one of the armchairs across the room. “I can’t bloody handle this place.”

 

Harry sank to the floor, covering his face with his arms. Draco was by his side in seconds. He gently laid a hand on Harry’s arm.

 

“Don’t fucking touch me!” Harry shouted, clawing at Draco’s hand.

 

Draco jerked back as though he had been burnt. “What happened?” he asked, crouching down.

 

“I want to go home, Draco. I hate this place.”

 

“Tell me what happened,” Draco cooed, settling himself on the floor in front of the hysterical brunette.

 

Harry’s shaking gradually subsided and he lowered his arms, wrapping them around his knees instead. His eyes were red and puffy beneath the black frames.

 

“What happened, love?” Draco asked, stroking the back of his knuckles down Harry’s cheek.

 

“Your father,” Harry hissed, turning his face away.

 

“What did he do?” Draco’s tone became tight and clipped. The hand resting on his trousers clenched and unclenched the material.

 

“It’s not what he did. It’s what he said.”

 

Draco whet his lips. “What did he say?”

 

Harry chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. “He said that if I fail to produce a male heir, then Jamie and I will be removed from your family,” Harry answered bitterly.

 

“Harry,” Draco cupped the smaller boy’s cheek. “Harry, look at me.”

 

Harry turned his head, meeting Draco’s eyes with a challenging green gaze.

 

“My father has no control over me or what I do. That includes having children with you. I don’t want you to think you have to do anything to please Lucius.”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Harry sighed, blowing the fringe out of his eyes.

 

“Yes, it does.” Draco gripped Harry’s shoulders, drawing the boy’s attention back to himself. “The **only** thing that matters to me is you.” Without removing his gaze from Harry’s, Draco leaned in and placed a gently kiss against the brunette’s lips. “Are you going to be okay?”

 

“I’m fine,” Harry answered weakly. He began coughing into his closed fist. His shoulders shook with effort. When he finally finished, he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

 

The colour drained from Draco’s pale face. “Merlin, Harry, you’re bleeding!”

 

Harry looked down at his hands. He gingerly fingered his bottom lip and came away with more blood. “I think I cut my lip,” he said, as his dark eyebrows knitted in confusion.

 

Before Draco could answer, Harry fell back into another coughing fit. This one didn’t last as long, but when he finished, his hands were covered in blood. He looked up at Draco helplessly.

 

“Oh, Merlin, Harry.” Draco quickly performed an _evanesco_ to clean Harry’s hands and mouth. “You’re not bleeding - you’re coughing up blood.”

 

“Really.” Harry’s green eyes were large and sarcastic.

 

“Does anything hurt?” Draco asked, his free hand hovering over Harry’s belly uneasily. Harry lifted one shoulder.

 

“My back hurts, but that’s old news. The coughing doesn’t help.”

 

“I think we should go see Madame Pomfry”

 

“If I go back to Hogwarts, I’m staying there.”

 

“You’re going to Hogwarts.”

 

“Then I’m staying there.”

 

“Quit being difficult.”

 

“I’m being honest.”

 

Draco sighed. “Why do you want to leave already? We haven’t even been here a full day.”

 

Harry rested his head against his knees. “Go talk to Daddy Dearest about that one.”

 

“Fine I’ll take you to Hogwarts in the morning and you can stay there.”

 

Harry’s head shot up “You’re not going to stay with me?”

 

“No, I’m coming back home. I wanted to spend my hols here.”

 

“So you’re leaving me there alone.”

 

“You know I want you here,” Draco carded a hand through Harry’s thick locks, “with me.”

 

Harry cast his eyes downward. “All my life I’ve been abused by men. I know your father is going to be one of them, and I don’t want to put myself in a dangerous situation.”

 

“What if I promised you wouldn’t have to see him at all?”

 

“You can’t do that, Draco.”

 

“It’s a big house.”

 

Harry remained silent.

 

“You can’t keep running, Harry. Do you trust me?”

 

Harry timidly raised his eyes.

 

“Do you trust me?” Draco asked again.

 

Harry nodded slowly, his jade eyes wide and uncertain. Draco held out his hand and carefully pulled him to his feet.

 

“It’s late. We should get to bed, yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Draco kissed him on the cheek and walked out of the room.

 

            That night, Harry woke up for the fifth time in an hour. Glancing at the clock, he surmised he had only gotten about an hour of sleep since he laid down three hours previously. “Sod this,” he sighed, throwing the blankets off his body.

 

The sheets and duvet were of the finest fabric money could buy. The mattress wasn’t too soft, and it wasn’t too firm. The bed was the nicest Harry ever slept in, but it lacked a certain blond bed warmer to which Harry had grown accustomed.

 

He tiptoed across the hall, eyes raking down the other end to ensure he wasn’t being watched by any errant house elves. He eased open Draco’s door, silently thanking that it didn’t creak. Across the room, Draco’s bedroom door was left ajar, allowing a sliver from the moonlight to filter into the sitting room. Harry managed to slide his body into the room with his belly just brushing the door.

 

Draco slept in his imposing four-poster the same way he slept at Hogwarts- curled into a ball beneath the duvet. Harry felt his heart swell at the sight as he quietly padded across the carpet to the other side of the bed. He lifted the duvet and slid beneath the cool sheets, snuggling against the warmth of Draco’s bare back.

 

“I wondered when you would show up.” Draco’s voice was heavy and sleep-laden. He pulled Harry’s arm around his waist, threading their fingers together.

 

            The next morning Draco woke to the sunlight cascading over his face. He looked down to find Harry’s dark head pillowed on his chest. He slid his fingers through the soft locks, causing the brunette to stir slightly. Harry stretched out all of his limbs before curling back into himself with a contented groan.

 

“Sleep well?” Draco asked.

 

Harry perched his chin on the blonde’s chest, squinting up at him. “Yes.” He laid his head back down. “I don’t have my wand. Will you summon my glasses?”

 

Draco nodded. He picked his wand up off the bedside table. “Accio Harry’s glasses.” After a moment, the black wire frames sailed into Draco’s hand unharmed. He handed the glasses to Harry, who slid them onto his nose gratefully. “Must we go to Hogwarts today?” he asked, his eyes large beneath the lenses of his spectacles.

 

Draco laid his head back against the pillow. “If you start coughing blood up again, yes. Otherwise we’ll just wait until we get back to Hogwarts.”

 

Their day was spent leisurely on the Malfoy estate. It was also Lucius-free, true to Draco’s word. Harry especially enjoyed the lunch they shared in the generous gardens. “They’re enchanted to stay this way all year, even in the winter,” Draco said as Harry walked down the path, mesmerized by the green foliage and lush flowers that surrounded him.

 

Harry sat down on an old wooden swing, just off the path. “Is this thing safe?” he asked, wrapping his fingers around the ropes holding the swing.

 

“Of course it is,” Draco answered with a smile. “Marjorie used to push me on it when I was younger.”

 

“I wish I could live out here,” Harry sighed.

 

“You could, you know.” Draco added quickly, “Live at the Manor, I mean.”

 

Something dark passed over Harry’s features. “It’s been almost two weeks since I cut myself,” he said instead of replying.

 

“I know, but,” Draco faltered. “Harry, did you hear what I said?”

 

“I heard you, Draco.”

 

            For the rest of the evening, Harry remained silent and pensive. Nevertheless, Draco was rather surprised when Harry followed him into his rooms that night without a word.

 

“Are you feeling all right?” Draco asked, as Harry stretched himself out on the settee. “You didn’t eat much at dinner.”

 

“I wasn’t very hungry,” Harry replied hollowly.

 

“Are you mad at me?”

 

Harry threw an arm over his eyes and sighed. He shook his head. “I’m horny,” he mumbled finally. Draco couldn’t help the laugher that bubbled up out of his throat.

 

Harry jumped up, a look of anguish marring his delicate features with tears in his eyes. “I’m just a bloody joke to you, aren’t I? Poor Potter got knocked up by Malfoy so now they feel obligated to pay him off. You’re just like your father,” he hissed, brushing past the blond.

 

Before he made it to the door, however, Draco’s hand closed over his wrist and spun him around so he was flush against the aristocrat’s body. He held Harry’s gaze steadily as he placed a firm kiss against the brunette’s lips. “Not a joke. Endearing.”

 

Harry’s eyes frantically searched Draco’s face for any hint of dishonesty. When he found none, he tangled his fingers in the flaxen hair at the nape of Draco’s neck and pulled him down for a bruising kiss. Draco sighed in pleasure as Harry opened his mouth, allowing Draco to slide his tongue inside for the first time in many months.

 

The kiss seemed to last forever, until both teenagers were breathless. Draco pulled away first. He couldn’t help the lazy grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “That was. . .”

 

“Wow,” Harry answered for him.

 

Draco nodded.

 

Harry took a step back. He lifted a finger to run it over his bottom lip. Gathering his Gryffindor courage, he headed toward Draco’s bedroom, pausing just long enough to throw a glance over his shoulder. “Are you coming?”

 

By the time Draco got to the bedroom, Harry was laying back against the mountain of pillows. His legs were splayed and bent at the knees. “Come here, Draco,” he said softly. Draco cautiously crawled up onto the bed, approaching Harry the way he would approach a skittish horse.

 

Part of Draco was afraid that Harry would change his mind and bolt out of the room. He settled himself between Harry’s thighs. Mindful of the baby, Draco kept his weight carefully balanced on hands that rested on either side of Harry.

 

“I’m nervous,” Harry admitted, raising a shaky hand to brush the fringe out of Draco’s eyes.

 

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” Draco replied.

 

Wordlessly, Harry began to place soft kisses along Draco’s jawbone. “I want you to make love to me, Draco.”


	28. Chapter 28

Draco pulled away, looking into Harry’s eyes, which were dark with desire.

 

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice deep.

 

Eyes wide, Harry nodded. Draco kissed him again, more thoroughly this time. He lifted on hand to slide it up Harry’s flank. Beneath him, Harry drew in a sharp breath.

 

“Okay?” Draco asked, as he latched his mouth onto the hollow of Harry’s collarbone.

 

“Yeah,” Harry sighed breathily.

 

Draco sat back on his heels, sliding his knees under Harry’s thighs for a more comfortable position. This time, he slid both hands up under Harry’s shirt, loving the feel of his swollen belly.

 

“Hardly any of my clothes fit anymore,” Harry complained.

 

“That’s why you wear robes, love.”

 

Harry made a face of disgust, which quickly turned to one of surprise as Draco licked one dusky pink nipple. He then blew on it, causing the little nub to harden instantly. Draco pushed the shirt up and over Harry’s head. He tossed the cotton tee to the floor.

 

Turning his eyes back to Harry, he groaned inwardly at the sight. Harry’s skin was a healthy bronze. Draco ran his hands down the length of Harry’s chest and over his belly, resting his hands atop the precious bump. Harry cupped the back of Draco’s neck, pulling him down for a kiss.

 

As Harry slipped his tongue into Draco’s mouth, he also gripped the bottom of Draco’s shirt and pulled it up and over the blond’s head, casting it aside as well. Now shirtless, Draco laid himself down against Harry’s body gently.

 

“Ahh,” Harry gasped, grabbing Draco’s hips.

 

“What?” Draco asked, freezing immediately. “Did I hurt you?”

 

“No,” Harry’s features relaxed into a smile. “Jamie just kicked.”

 

Draco had the decency to blush. “Maybe she likes it when we’re together.”

 

This time it was Harry’s turn to blush. He turned his head into the pillow and looked at Draco out of the corner of his eye. “I really don’t want to do this right now,” he whispered. Wordlessly, Draco stood up, looking down at the Gryffindor uncertainly.

 

“I didn’t mean I wanted you to leave.”

 

Draco pulled his shirt on over his head. “I think I’ll just sleep on the couch tonight.” As Draco pulled the door to his bedroom shut, Harry curled himself around Draco’s pillow and cried himself to sleep.

 

            Harry dragged himself out of bed at the first sign of daylight. He showered and dressed, noting with disparagement Draco’s absence from the sitting room. He was, however, waiting for Harry in the casual dining room.

 

“Good morning, Harry,” he said, stiffly, buttering a biscuit.

 

“Hi,” Harry answered, leaning down for a kiss.

 

“Sit down, Harry, we need to talk,” Draco said, as he turned his cheek to other way. His tone remained impersonal and business-like.

 

“Have I upset you?” Harry asked, taking a seat across from the blond aristocrat.

 

“I spoke with my parents early this morning,” he answered instead.

 

“Oh?” Harry paused, a forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth.

 

“They informed me that certain decisions must be made, or I will be enrolled in Durmstrang next week.”

 

Harry’s fork clattered to the plate.

 

Draco continued, nonplussed. “The baby is due in June. The naming ceremony will commence two days after her birth and it will coincide with the engagement ceremony. The wedding will be August 15th, two weeks after your 17th birthday.”

 

Harry jumped up from the table, knocking his water goblet over. Neither boy noticed. “I didn’t agree to any of this.”

 

“Neither did I,” Draco growled slamming his hands down on the table. Grey eyes flashed dangerously. “Maybe it’s not important to you if I’m around or not, Potter, but I would at least like to be here for Jamie!”

 

“How can you say that? You’re giving your **parents** more loyalty than you ever thought about giving your daughter!”

 

“Well maybe you don’t understand the loyalty because you don’t have any parents!” Draco regretted the words the instant they left his mouth. “Harry, I didn’t mean it like that,” Draco apologized as his lover stood up from the table.

 

“You meant it or you wouldn’t have said it.” When Draco failed to reply, Harry walked out of the room, leaving his plate of eggs untouched.

 

Draco learned from the house elves later that Harry had some food sent to his room, so he probably wasn’t starving himself.

 

“Harry?” Draco called, knocking on the brunette’s door, after having to explain why his fiancé refused to come down for dinner.

 

“Go away,” was the muffled reply.

 

Draco tried the handle. Predictably, it was locked. “Harry let me in. We need to talk.”

 

“I said, ‘Go away!’” His tone became pitched and desperate. It made Draco nervous. As quickly as he could manage, he rushed around the Manor to the hidden entrance. With a gentle push, the wall gave way to the guest quarter’s sitting room.

 

Sweeping the room with his eyes, Draco saw no sign of his lover. “Harry?”

 

A choked sob issued from the bedroom. Draco raced through the open door. He found Harry sitting in a pile of broken glass, blood staining the white carpet beneath him.

 

“It was an accident,” the brunette sobbed, looking up at Draco helplessly.

 

Draco cast a spell to remove the glass and crossed the room in two quick strides. “What happened?” he asked, picking Harry up like a child and depositing him gently on the bed. He looked Harry over for cuts as the brunette choked out his story.

 

“The house elves brought my dinner - just like I asked. I ate it in bed because my stomach felt upset and I didn’t want to do anything to further the feeling. I stood up to use the loo and I dropped the plate. Then when I tried to pick up the pieces, I only managed to step in them. I fell and,” his breath hitched, “that’s when you showed up.” The source of the blood was, in fact, the cuts on the bottom of Harry’s bare feet.

 

“I’ll go get Marjorie. She’ll patch you up.”

 

Harry wiped his nose on a handkerchief. “Are you coming back?” The question caught Draco by surprise.

 

“I expected you would want me to leave you alone.”

 

“Why did you make those decisions without asking me?”

 

Draco sighed inwardly. “My parents would have sent me to Durmstrang and I never would have seen you or Jamie again. Trust me, the decision was not made without thinking of you two. I’ll go get Marjorie. Good night, Harry,” Draco said, closing the doors to the bedroom.

 

            Harry appeared in the formal dining room for breakfast the next morning. He was dressed in clean robes that weren’t wrinkled for once and he had even attempted to brush his hair.

 

“Mister Potter.” Lucius raised an eyebrow. “To what do we owe the honour of your presence at our breakfast table?”

 

“I wanted to apologize,” he said, stopping behind Draco’s chair. He gripped the antique wood so tightly his knuckles turned white. “To you, Lucius, Naricissa, and of course, Draco.” He ran his fingertips down the blond heir’s cheek. Draco tilted his face upward, giving Harry a pleased smile. “I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused - everything I’ve put your family through.”

 

“Really,” Lucius drawled dryly.

 

“Really.” Harry released the back of Draco’s chair. He walked to the doorway and turned to face the three Malfoys. “That’s why I’m leaving. I appreciate your hospitality and your patience, but I know when I’ve worn out my welcome. I’ve already received permission from Madame Pomfry to fly back to Hogwarts. Madame Hooch will be here soon to escort me back to the castle. Draco, I’ll see you when you return. Thank you again, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy.” He nodded at Narcissa and Lucius respectively before walking out of the room.

 

Draco waited about two seconds before he shoved his chair back from the table ad ran after Harry. He caught up to the dark haired boy in the entrance hall where he was waiting for Madame Hooch with his bags.

 

“She can’t get in past the wards.” Draco shoved his hands deep in his pockets, unsure of what else to say.

 

“Marjorie is going to walk me down to the end of the drive.” Harry refused to meet Draco’s eyes, instead staring out the large front window.

 

“You don’t have to leave.”

 

Harry turned around, a blank look on his face. “I get it now. You’re marrying me out of obligation. You needed an heir, anyway. I can live with that. I can’t, however, live with a lie. Don’t lead me on. All my life I’ve been second best. I’m just a tool for someone else.”

 

“Harry-”

 

“Draco, I’m okay with that. You can stop pretending now.” He reached up and unclasped the necklace from around his neck. He pressed the chair and Draco’s ring into the blond’s palm. “Save this, Draco, and give it to someone you really love.”

 

Marjorie walked into the room, a bright smile on her face. “Are you ready?’ she asked, picking up the largest of Harry’s bags.

 

“Yes.” He gave Draco a kiss on the cheek. “Goodbye, Draco.” Then Harry followed Marjorie out the front door. Draco could only watch helplessly as love walked out the door of his life - quite literally.

 

            Draco spent the remaining time of his holiday in sullen isolation. He blamed his parents completely for Harry’s sudden departure. Narcissa assured him that Harry would “recover fro his mood swings and beg you to take him back”. Lucius was just relieved that “the mud blood finally learned his place”.

 

By the time Draco got back to Hogwarts he nearly had himself sick worrying about Harry. He sent the Gryffindor an owl his very first night back, which was not returned for an entire week that Draco saw neither hide no hair of his emerald-eyed lover.

 

Ron was just as tight-lipped about Harry’s whereabouts. Finally, Draco got an owl after seven anxiety-filled Harry-less days. The owl was sent by the Minister of Magic himself, requesting Draco’s presence at the trial of the Ministry of Magic on behalf of Harry Potter vs. Christopher Rhyahni and Pansy Parkinson. Draco drew in a sharp breath. The trial had already begun. He hastened to Professor Snape’s office - the quickest liaison to Dumbledore, and further - to Harry.

 

Snape answered the door on the second knock. “Mr. Malfoy. This had better be important.” The Potions Master’s tone was as surly and deep as usual.

 

Draco pushed past him without being invited in. “Professor did you know Harry’s trial had started?” Draco asked, anxiously.

 

“I was aware of the proceedings between the Minister and Potter, yes.”

 

“Don’t play games with me, Severus!” Draco shouted, “I need to talk to Dumbledore.”

 

“You will not take that tone with me.” Snape pursed his lips into a thin white line. “This way.”

 

            The Headmaster gave them a bright smile as the pair entered his office. “I knew I would see you soon, Draco.”

 

“Where’s Harry?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child.

 

“I can assure you, young Draco that Harry is in good hands.”

 

“That’s not what I asked!” He stomped his foot for emphasis in a very un-Malfoy-like way.”

 

“I assure you Harry is safe. You will see for yourself tomorrow.”

 

Draco’s demeanour perked up. “Tomorrow?”

 

“Did you not read the entire letter you received?”

 

Draco’s cheeks coloured.

 

“I didn’t think so. The trial will continue tomorrow morning at seven. You will be called as a witness.”

 

“I will accompany you tomorrow morning,” Snape spoke up from behind them. “I expect you to be dressed and in my office at precisely 5 o’clock am.”

 

Draco nodded eagerly. He was so excited, he could hardly control himself until he got out of the Headmaster’s office. Once he was alone in his room, he sent a silent thank-you to Merlin and anyone else that aided in this current change of fortune.

 

 


	29. Chapter 29

The court room was no different than the last time Harry had been in the Ministry. The Wizengamot were seated high above the lone chair that sat on a raised dais in the middle of the room. Fudge was sitting in the very front seat, looking like he had swallowed something less than pleasing to his palate.

 

Harry was ushered to sit along the far wall, where the spectators were allowed to watch from. In this case, the only people present were the people pertaining to the trial. That included Harry, of course, Dumbledore, Madame Pomfry and Draco.

 

            Rhy and Pansy were escorted into the room once everyone had gotten settled. They were both dressed in grey Ministry-issued robes. Although at seventeen, the two should have been tried as adults and held at Azkaban, they were pardoned from that fate and held under Ministry custody at Dumbledore’s request. The wrists were bound with magic, preventing any movement.

 

The trial was not conducted like a muggle trial. Witnesses were not called, unless the Wizengamot felt it necessary. The defendant’s chair was widened magically to allow for Rhy and Pansy to sit together. An Azkaban guard, both wizards, stood on each side of the pair.

 

“Christopher Rhyahni. You have been charged with the rape and assault of Harry Potter. How do you plead?”

 

“Guilty, Sir,” Rhy answered softly, his eyes downcast, unable to meet those of his father, who sat with the other members of the Wizengamot. As far as he was concerned, he had made it clear before the trial that he no longer had a son.

 

The members of the Wizengamot nodded to each other.

 

“Pansy Parkinson. You have been charged with the assault of Harry Potter and the attempted murder of his unborn child. How do you plead?”

 

“Not guilty.” Pansy answered defiantly.

 

Harry gripped the arm of his chair tightly. Draco reached over and placed his hand atop Harry’s, trying to convey some comfort without being obvious. Harry’s grip on the chair relaxed slightly, but his body posture remained rigid.

 

Above them, the wizengamot were whispering quickly amongst themselves. “Silence,” the minister ordered, a loud bang emitting from the tip of his wand.

 

“Pansy Parkinson, are you aware that there are three witnesses, in addition to Harry Potter himself, that have testified, under magical oath, that you did, in fact, assault Mr. Potter by threatening him numerous times verbally, attempting to drown him, throwing him down a flight of stairs?” Fudge asked, drilling the girl with his eyes.

 

Pansy managed to remain arrogant, despite the grave situation. She sat up straighter in her shackles and glanced at Rhy before speaking to the Wizengamot. “It was Christopher’s idea,” she harrumphed.

 

The flurry of whispers began again amongst the members of the Wizengamot. This time the Minister allowed the talking to continue for nearly five minutes before he banged his gavel to silence them.

 

“Christopher Rhyahni. You have pleaded guilty to sexually assaulting Mr. Potter. Is it true that you have also convinced Miss Parkinson to participate in your elaborately macabre scheme?”

 

Rhy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His eyes roamed over the many adults staring down at him from their perches. “I have pled guilty to many things today, your honors, but I will not falsely admit to convincing Pansy of anything. In fact, she is the one who tricked me into her little scheme.”

 

As he finished, Rhy allowed his eyes to rest on Harry for just a moment. The Gryffindor shrugged and looked away, as though he was physically shrugging Rhy’s gaze off himself. He leaned in closer to Draco, and the blond boy wrapped his arm around his boyfriend.

 

“Well, now,” Lucius Malfoy spoke up, from his position near the back of the Wizengamot.

 

Harry did a double take and his face jerked to the left, looking at Draco. His look clearly said, _I didn’t know your dad was a member of the Wizengamot._ The look on Draco’s face was full of confusion. _Neither did I_ , he mouthed to Harry.

 

“Ms. Parkinson, you were betrothed to my son, Draco, up until recently, were you not?” Lucius asked, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

 

“Of course, I was!” Pansy squeaked indignantly.

 

“Right,” Lucius continued. “And you love my son, don’t you, Ms. Parkinson?”

 

Pansy gave him a look of disbelief. “Of course I love Draco! Why do you think I had to get Potter out of the way? It‘s not my fault Rhyahni was so bad at seducing him!”

 

With Pansy’s admission, the noise level in the room hit a fever pitch. Lucius Malfoy sat back in his chair, a smugly arrogantly look on his aristocratic features. Similarly, Draco sat next to Harry, trying his hardest to conceal his smile of triumph.

 

The Minister banged his gavel loudly on the bench in front of him until the room once again quieted. All eyes were focused intently on him, as his decision was imminent.

 

“Pansy Parkinson, the court finds you guilty of attempted murder of Harry Potter and his unborn child. You are hereby sentenced to twenty-five years in Azkaban.” The wizards and witches in the room collectively held their breath as they waited for the rest of the decision. After a pause, Fudge said, “Christopher Rhyahni, the court finds you guilty of the rape and multiple counts of sexual assaults to Harry Potter. The court sentences you to fifty years in Azkaban. Dismissed.”

 

As Pansy and Rhy were taken away, and the courtroom began to empty, Draco gave a loud whoop and hoisted Harry up off his feet, ignoring the look of irritation on the slighter boy’s face. “It’s **over** , baby,” Draco whispered into Harry’s ear with conviction.

 

“I just want to go home, Draco,” Harry answered, his face drawn and pale.

 

“Of course.” Draco offered Harry’s arm and turned to lead them out of the courtroom.

 

“Draco.”

 

The couple turned around to find Lucius Malfoy standing there. Harry visibly started and shrank back from the man. “Yes, father?” Draco asked, keeping his voice as steady as possible.

 

“I wanted to apologize to you and,” he paused, “Harry.”

 

Harry shrugged a shoulder, looking down at his feet, unwilling and unable to meet Lucius’s eyes.

 

“Draco, your mother wasn’t pleased with my - actions. Then the Ministry asked me to serve on the Wizengamot, and I was faced with facts I wasn’t ready to accept. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. Harry is your fiancé and as your father, I should have respected that.” In true Malfoy form, however, he quickly left the boys before they could respond to his apology.

 

Draco gave Harry a questioning gaze. Harry just shook his head. “I’m tired,” was his only reply.

 

            A week and a half later, April bled into May and Harry began his thirty-sixth week of pregnancy. A weekly visit to Madame Pomfry confirmed that Harry had now filled out to his full weight and he only had four short weeks to go. His small frame had rounded out and he looked like he was hiding more than just a quaffle underneath his robes.

 

Due to his discomfort nearly all the time, Pomfry also ordered him on strict bed rest for at least twelve of his waking hours. Draco tried to make the best of it, but Harry kept alternating between tears and anger. Finally, Draco managed to get his hysterical boyfriend into bed and settled under Draco’s green duvet and grey sheets.

 

“I have class with McGonagall in 10 minutes. Will you be okay until I get back?”

 

Harry rolled his eyes. He had managed to prop himself against the pillows and was defiantly not going to fall asleep. “I’ll be fine. What do you think, I’m some kind of invalid or something?”

 

Draco silently counted to ten before answering. The last thing he wanted was to upset Harry any further. “I’ll be back in an hour, love.” Dropping a kiss on Harry’s forehead, he left the Gryffindor and headed to class.

 

            An hour later, Draco pushed open the door to his room and dropped his books on the floor. “I’m home, love,” he sighed, pausing in between untying his boots to glance at the bed. Harry lay sprawled out across the bed, looking like he was sleeping better than he had in months, which was probably true. He opened his eyes and stretched his arms over his head, yawning deeply, “Hi.”

 

“How do you feel?” Draco asked, pulling his boots off and tossing them next to his forgotten books on the floor.

 

“Better,” Harry shrugged, rolling onto his side.

 

“Are you hungry?”

 

Harry scrunched up his nose, thinking for a moment. “Actually,” he stared past Draco, deep in thought, “yeah. I am hungry.”

 

Draco’s eyes lit up. It had been a struggle through this entire pregnancy to get Harry to eat a decent meal. He usually pushed his plate away after three bites. Even Pomfry was beginning to worry that Harry hadn’t gained enough weight. She had started to slip him vitamin supplements under the guise of helping him sleep.

 

“Okay.” Draco hurried back into his boots. “What do you want? What ever you want, I’ll get it. Sheppard’s pie? I know you love that stuff? Or how about some chicken? Do you want it grilled or roasted? Never mind, I’ll bring both.”

 

“Slow down, Draco. You’re going to give yourself a heart attack.”

 

“Well, what do you want?” Draco asked impatiently.

 

“I don’t know,” Harry said slowly, rolling over onto his back once again. “How about some pumpkin juice?”

 

“Great. Pumpkin juice. Got it. What else?”

 

“That’s it.”

 

“That’s it?” Draco’s eyebrows shot up underneath his fringe. “Just pumpkin juice? I thought you were hungry.”

 

Harry shrugged again.

 

“Fine. Just pumpkin juice,” Draco sighed.

 

He turned to leave the room when Harry called out. “Draco?”

 

“Yes, love?”

 

“Will you bring me a chicken sandwich, too?”

 

Draco smiled broadly. “Of course.”

 

Three glasses of pumpkin juice and two chicken sandwiches later, Harry was full and Draco was satisfied now that Harry was full. The Gryffindor was relaxing against a mound of pillows while Draco rubbed his sore swollen feet.

 

“You better be careful.”

 

“Hmm?” Draco looked up. “Why?”

 

“Because I could get used to this,” Harry grinned.

 

“Good,” Draco said, releasing Harry’s feet so he could crawl up next to him on the bed. “I want you to, because you deserve it.”

 

Harry was silent for a moment. Then, “Have you noticed anything different about me lately?”

 

Draco’s stomach instantly clenched. His mouth went dry and he had to swallow several times before he was able to answer. “No,” he nearly stuttered, “I haven’t.”

 

Again, Harry was silent for a few minutes. Draco idly ran his fingertips over Harry’s bare arm, trying to coax the words out of him. After what seemed like an eternity to the blond, Harry spoke again.

 

“I haven’t cut myself since the night before the trial.”

 

It took everything Draco had not to react instantly to the words. He counted to ten silently and took several deep breaths. He didn’t know if it was worse that Harry had cut himself only a week prior, or the fact that he was still cutting at all.

 

“Oh,” was all he was able to manage.

 

“I didn’t hide it,” Harry said, almost casually. He rolled up the sleeve of the silver and green jumper to show Draco the series of scabbed x’s stretching down the length of his forearm. They were each only about an inch in diameter. Draco counted sixteen in all. One for every year of Harry’s life. One for every year Harry had suffered abuse. Draco held his breath.

 

“You counted them.” This statement was not a question. Draco nodded dumbly in reply.

 

“Do you know what they stand for?”

 

“Sixteen years.”

 

Harry smiled. It was a genuine smile, but it did nothing to ease Draco’s fears. Nor did it make him feel any less uncomfortable about the situation and the conversation.

 

“Close, but no.”

 

Draco waited for an answer, but it never came.

 

“You’re done with classes for the day, yeah?” Harry asked, turning into Draco and burying his face in the soft cotton of his shirt.

 

“Yeah,” Draco answered idly.

 

Harry drifted off to sleep, in a few short minutes. Draco, however, stayed awake for several agonizing hours until he finally gave up and untangled himself from Harry. He walked out of the castle and down to the lake. It was only about half seven. The sun was just beginning to set and the colours looked beautiful across the calm surface of the water.

 

Sitting down on the bank, Draco pulled out his pack of fags, lit one with his wand tip and took a deep drag. He exhaled the smoke slowly, allowing it to linger for a short time. He sat and smoked three fags in a row, lighting each new one on the dying embers of the previous.

 

“Harry,” he sighed, flicking the last one towards the lake, before he stood up and headed back towards the castle.

 


	30. Chapter 30

Two weeks later, Madame Pomfrey moved Harry to the hospital wing. As far as she was concerned, Harry staying in Draco’s room was “too distracting” and she was worried that any activity could increase his stress level and cause him to loose the baby. Draco didn’t mind, but Harry threw a fit about the change.

 

“What’s wrong with me staying here? This is complete shite! She just doesn’t want us to have any alone time,” Harry sneered. “What’s the worst that could happen? Are you going to knock me up? Oh wait! That already happened!”

 

“Harry, calm down,” Draco said, trying to sooth his irate lover. “She’s the medi-witch. She just wants what’s best for you.”

 

“What’s best for me is to stay **here**. With you.” He turned sad green eyes towards Draco. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

 

Draco stopped packing Harry’s things and looked up. “What?” He crossed the room and sat down next to his pregnant fiancé. “Of course I’m not trying to get rid of you, love.”

 

Harry made a face. He pulled at the stray threads of Draco’s jumper that he refused to take off for days at time. “Do you think I’m fat?”

 

A chuckle rose from his throat before Draco could stop himself. He sighed and carded a hand through Harry’s dark locks. “I love you Harry. I love whether you’re fat or thin, bald, one-legged, whatever. You are carrying my baby and I think the sight of you is the most incredibly amazing thing I have ever seen.” To emphasize his point, he raised the hem of Harry’s jumper and placed a firm kiss against the stretched skin of his stomach.

 

Goosebumps erupted across Harry’s skin. He gave a small smile and gently, but firmly pulled the jumper back down over his skin. He turned serious green eyes towards Draco. They looked huge beneath his wire-rimmed spectacles.

 

“I think it’s the hormones.”

 

Draco schooled his features very carefully. He knew that laughter could prompt Harry to tears, but indifference could anger him. Taking a deep breath, he ran a hand through his hair, and Harry changed the subject.

 

“I guess I’m ready,” he grumbled. “Do you have to levitate me to the hospital wing?” he asked, sarcastically.

 

“No, love, you can walk,” Draco answered lightly, holding out his hand.

 

Harry took the proffered hand and struggled to his feet. “I can’t walk. It takes me five minutes to take one step.”

 

“I’ve got you,” Draco said, supporting the brunt of Harry’s weight, which wasn’t nearly as heavy as he should have been.

 

Their conversation continued the same way until they finally arrived at the hospital wing. Harry had to sit down three times while they walked up the stairs, but Draco stood by patiently waiting until his young boyfriend caught his breath. Their arrival was much less dramatic than the actual trip.

 

Pomfrey fretted over Harry, getting him settled in to his bed and casting different monitoring charms around him, as well as a charm that would alert her if he tried to get out of bed. All the while, Draco stood by, far enough to be comfortable, but close enough for Harry to feel safe. He kept the same amused smile on his face while Pomfrey fought Harry over the issue of wearing a hospital gown instead of his robes. Finally the compromised on Harry wearing a hospital gown beneath Draco’s green jumper.

 

“Honestly, Potter, at least let me wash that thing before you put it back on,” Pomfrey said disdainfully.

 

Harry glowered at her.

 

Draco stepped forward, rolling his eyes. “He hasn’t taken it off for the past two weeks. I usually wait until he falls asleep. Then I take it off him, wash it, and put it back on. He’s a heavy sleeper, so he never notices.”

 

Harry looked completely scandalized. “I would know if you were undressing me in my sleep, thank you, **Malfoy**.”

 

“Easy with my last name, love,” Draco whispered. “Pomfrey might realize who I am.”

 

The joke earned a slight chuckle from Harry. He shrugged, looking up at the medi-witch. “That doesn’t mean you can have my jumper.”

 

“I have no intentions of trying to remove that ragged piece of cloth from your body, Mr. Potter. Consider the discussion closed.” She threw her hands up in exasperation. “I’ll be right back.”

 

“Old bat,” Harry grumbled at her retreating back.

 

“Careful, she might hear you.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes. “What’s she going to do? Send me back to your room?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “That wouldn’t be so bad, you know.”

 

“You’re in a frisky mood, today,” Draco said, pulling a chair up next to the bed.

 

“No,” Harry sighed, leaning back into the pillows. “I’m just tired. I think it’s making me a little wonky. This baby is zapping all of my energy. I don’t know if I’ll last two more weeks.”

 

“Oh, quit bellyaching, Potter,” Pomfrey said, bustling back into the room. “You’re acting like the first person who has ever been pregnant before.”

 

Draco hid his smirk behind a perfectly manicured hand as Harry made a face and grumbled underneath his breath.

 

            Harry only lasted in the hospital wing for three days. Three days of irritating Madame Pomfry, Draco, and on occasion, Ron and Hermione. Nothing would appease the pregnant teenager. His pillows weren’t fluffy enough. His blankets were too cold, and then they were too hot. He wasn’t hungry. As soon as Madame Pomfry took his meal away, he was starving. Draco almost yelled out him a couple times, but managed to keep himself under control.

 

Pomfry tried to attribute the tantrums to pregnancy hormones, but Draco knew better. Harry was only lashing out because he was never alone. He had no opportunity to cut himself - even if he wanted. He also had no opportunity to snuggle with Draco. The first time the blond tried to slide in bed next to Harry, Madame Pomfry appeared and squawked like a mother hen until Draco left the infirmary.

 

That left no other option.

 

Despite the slight protest from Lucius, Harry was moved to Malfoy Manor. Since Harry was on bedrest, Draco was given leave to stay with his fiance.

 

Harry was set up in the rooms he had previously occupied during his earlier stay at the Manor. He had requested to stay with Draco in his rooms, but both of Draco’s parents found this request “plebian”, considering the couple was not married yet.

 

“I don’t want him in here,” Harry whispered, glancing nervously at the closed door.

 

Draco glanced behind himself.

 

“He’s not going to come in here, trust me. He never even ventures into my wing of the Manor. I promise, you won’t have to see him at all. If you’re lucky, you won’t have to see him until the wedding.”

 

Harry started laughing and had to stop clutching, his stomach. Draco was at his side in an instant.

 

“What is it? Are you okay? Is the baby all right?”

 

Harry smiled at him, still holding his stomach. “Just don’t make me laugh, you’re giving me a cramp.”

 

            The morning of Jamie’s birth, Draco woke first. He slipped out of bed and showered before rousing Harry. The brunette groaned and rolled over when Draco shook his shoulder.

 

“It’s time to get up, love.”

 

“’M S’tired,” Harry mumbled, pulling the duvet over his cotton-clad shoulder.

 

“Come on,” Draco stood up and turned the lights on.

 

Harry squinted up at the blond. “How about five more minutes?”

 

“How about ‘no?’” Draco answered, sliding Harry’s glasses onto his nose.

 

With Draco’s help, Harry sat up against the headboard and a mountain of pillows. “Do I have to change?” he asked, frowning down and his tee shirt and shorts.

 

“Nope. Pomfrey is going to transfigure your clothes into a gown once we get downstairs.”

 

Harry nodded. “Will you help me to the loo?”

 

Once Harry was finished, Draco escorted him downstairs to the room that had been set up as a delivery room. Harry didn’t want to have the baby at Hogwarts and Draco didn’t want the baby to be born at St. Mungo’s, so Malfoy Manor was the final decision.

 

Harry was settled into a soft bed with Draco by his side. Pomfrey had set up several charms to monitor both Harry as well as the baby. She also magicked an IV into Harry’s left hand to keep him hydrated.

 

“All right,” she said, holding out a frothing potion. “Swallow this down. It’s not going to put you to sleep. It will just make you rather woozy for a while.”

 

Harry held his good hand out to his fiancé. “I’m scared, Draco. I don’t know if I want to do this anymore.”

 

“You’re in completely capable hands. I’ll be here with you the whole time, besides,” Draco said, taking Harry’s hand in his own. “Now, drink the potion.”

 

Harry swallowed the potion in one gulp, and the effect was almost instantaneous. He sank back into the pillows with a soft smile on his face. His eyes were lidded, giving him the appearance of an opium user. “Madame Pomfrey,” he slurred, waving his IV-ed hand at her in a grand gesture. “You may proceed.”

 

Once Pomfrey was sterilized and ready to go, the whole procedure did not take very long. The medi-witch applied a numbing paste across Harry’s belly. After marking the correct points, she sliced into Harry’s skin without further affair and pulled out a bloody purple body not larger than Draco’s two hands.

 

Draco held his breath until he heard Jamie let out a wail, taking in her first breath of life. Pomfrey wiped the baby off and cleaned her mouth, ears, nose, and eyes free of amniotic fluid. She conjured a soft blanket with which she wrapped the little girl.

 

“Congratulations, Harry, Draco, you have a little girl.”

 

Pomfrey handed the baby to Draco. He took the bundle carefully. Having never held a newborn before, the feeling was more than a little apprehensive. Draco gazed down at his daughter and his heart swelled with pride.

 

Jamie had Harry’s jet-black hair, with a tuft of blond at her forehead. He couldn’t see her eyes because they were closed, but he peeked under the blanket and found ten fingers and ten toes. She was a perfectly normal baby girl.

 

“Are you okay, Harry?” Draco asked, glancing down at his fiancé.

 

“Mmm,” Harry answered, with half-lidded eyes.

 

“I’ve given him something stronger so I can stitch him back up,” Pomfrey said.

 

Draco nodded, cradling their baby to his chest. “When will he be able to see Jamie?”

 

“That depends on how fast his body heals and how long it takes the sedative to wear off. I would say 12 to 24 hours.”

 

Draco nodded again, staring down a the precious bundle in his arms. He kissed the sleeping baby on her forehead.

 

“I love you, Jamie.”

 

He leaned down, and pressed a kiss to Harry’s forehead.

 

“And I love you, Harry Potter.”


	31. Chapter 31

It was a full two weeks before Harry felt well enough to even get up out of bed. With Draco’s help, he stood up shakily, pulled on his robe, and padded out on to the veranda. The fresh air felt good on his face and he closed his eyes against the breeze.

 

“Where’s Jamie?” he asked, as Draco helped him into a chair.

 

“I just put her down for a nap,” the blond answered, taking a seat across from Harry. He pulled the brunette’s feet into his lap. “I can get her if you want.”

 

“No.” Harry raised a hand dismissively.

 

“How is the incision?” Draco asked, gently.

 

Harry placed a hand over his now-flat belly protectively. “It looks better than it did last week.”

 

“Can I see it?” Draco ventured.

 

An uncomfortable expression crossed Harry’s features. “Okay,” he said, uneasily. He parted his robe and unbuttoned his pyjama top just far enough to allow Draco to see the angry red line running from the bottom of is bellybutton and disappearing under the waistband of his trousers held together by ten sharp-looking stitches.

 

Due to the nature of Harry’s pregnancy, the entire procedure had to be done the muggle way - including the healing process. Draco was less than thrilled, but the idea of an extra scar didn’t faze Harry. “At least I’ll know something good came from this one,” he said.

 

“Does it still hurt?”

 

“Sometimes, when I turn over at night, the skin stretches and it hurts. Other than that, it’s just sore.”

 

Draco nodded. Harry buttoned his shirt back up and pulled the robe around himself like a security blanket.

 

“Are you cold?” Draco asked.

 

Harry shook his head. He slid his bare feet out of Draco’s lap and onto the floor. As he started to stand, Draco jumped up to help.

 

“I can do it,” Harry dismissed.

 

Draco watched nervously as Harry made his way painfully slowly back into the bedroom. He even managed to pull himself onto the bed and crawl beneath the duvet. “Come lay with me, Draco,” Harry said, his eyes wide and green beneath his thick spectacles.

 

They had grown closer physically up until the birth of their daughter. The first time Draco tried to touch his lover after that, the dark-haired boy froze up and nearly suffered a panic attack. After that, Draco was careful to let Harry initiate any physical contact. He was quite surprised at Harry’s request. Although they had been sharing a bed since Harry came home to have the baby, they each stayed on their respective sides of the bed most nights.

 

Draco moved slowly, afraid that any wrongdoing on his part would cause Harry to kick him out of the bed. He slid in behind his boyfriend and had to stifle a sigh of pleasure as heir bodies came into contact for the first time in weeks. Harry hummed softly when Draco rested his hand on his hip, carefully mindful of Harry’s abdomen.

 

Harry laid his hand on top of Draco’s and laced their fingers together. He gently set their entwined hands over his navel. Through the thin cotton of Harry’s top, Draco could feel the raised scar between the stitches.

 

“Are you sure this doesn’t hurt?”

 

Harry turned his face just enough to nuzzle Draco’s cheek. “You have never hurt me.”

 

The sound of Jamie’s cries from the monitoring charm broke their moment apart.

 

“I’ll be right back,” Draco said as he kissed Harry’s cheek and carefully slid out from behind him.

 

Draco returned shortly with a small dark haired bundle in his arms. The baby was fussing, waving her little fists in the air. Harry sat up eagerly. He had only seen Jamie a few times, as he had been asleep so often during the day since her birth. Draco settled the baby in Harry’s arms, stepping away so he could fix her bottle.

 

“Jamie,” Harry cooed, rocking the little girl gently. “You’ve got your father’s eyes. And you’re going to be a heartbreaker when you grow up, I just know it.” He looked up as Draco handed him the bottle.

 

“She settles down so much faster when you’re holding her. It takes me a good ten minutes before she stops crying,” Draco said.

 

“That’s because she’s used to me,” Harry answered, giving the bottle to the baby. Jamie latched on eagerly, her eyes closing.

 

“I love watching you feed her,” Draco mused softly. He sat down on the edge of the bed, watching them both.

 

“There’s not a whole lot to watch,” Harry said, glancing up at his boyfriend. “It’s about as exciting when I’m eating.”

 

Draco shook his head. “It’s different.”

 

Once Jamie was done, Harry handed the bottle back to Draco. He eased the baby up onto his shoulder and rubbed her back gently to burp her. She fell asleep within minutes.

 

“Want me to take her?” Draco asked.

 

“No,” Harry replied. He held her in one arm, while tracing her tiny features with his other hand. He ran his fingertips over her soft raven hair and down her baby smooth cheeks, memorizing the picture. She shifted in her sleep, letting out a soft murmur. Harry smiled and the smile reached his eyes.

 

He leaned back against the pillows, settling Jamie on his chest. With one hand on Jamie’s back, and the other laying on the bed, Harry slept for the better part of an hour. Draco kept careful watch over them, to ensure Jamie would be safe, although he had no doubt Harry would remain still in his sleep.

 

\---

 

The following day, Madame Pomfry arrived at the Manor to remove Harry’s stitches. Harry was sitting up in bed when the medi-witched walked into his and Draco’s bedroom, looking surprisingly better than he had the previous day. Draco helped him in the bath earlier in the morning, and he seemed to gain a healthier demeanor from it.

 

“Good morning, Mr. Potter,” Pomfrey said, ever formal.

 

“Good morning,” he replied, giving her a small smile.

 

“Let’s see that incision, shall we? I trust you’ve been taking care of it. Is there any pain?”

 

Harry unbuttoned his top, revealing the scar. Except for the stitching, it appeared to be completely healed. “Sometimes they pinch my skin a bit, but it’s only when I shift my position in bed.”

 

The whole procedure of removing Harry’s stitches took just under five minutes. When Madame Pomfry finished, Harry was looking at a flat stomach with a thin pink line running from just beneath his bellybutton to disappear beneath his pajama trousers. The scar looked much less severe than some of Harry’s self-inflicted scars.


	32. Chapter 32

            Harry refused to change from his pajamas the first time he went to the informal dining room for breakfast. Draco’s argument fell on deaf ears. Will all the indifference he could muster, Harry shuffled into the dining room wearing a light blue terrycloth (“completely peasant, that is,” Draco had said) robe over his silk pajamas with furry gold slippers on his feet.

 

Lucius made a low noise of discontentment in his throat while Narcissa choked on her tea.

 

“Good morning,” Harry said, taking his seat next to Narcissa.

 

Draco sat down across from Narcissa, next to his father. “Good morning, Mother, Father.”

 

“Good morning, Draco. Harry, it’s nice to see you awake and – out of bed,” Lucius said smoothly.

 

“Yes, well, Draco was tired of bringing tea to the bed, so I had to retrieve it myself.”

 

“Should you really be drinking tea though, dear?” Narcissa spoke up. “It’s probably not good for you, especially with all that extra weight you put on.”

 

“Mother!”

 

“Now, Draco, do you really want Harry’s wedding robes to be let out?”

 

“Of course, not!” Harry replied with conviction. “I should stop eating again. Why, I can’t see my ribs, anymore!”

 

“That will be enough,” Lucius said, flipping the napkin in his hand onto the plate. “Narcissa, we must be off. Excuse us.” The elder Malfoys left the table without another word.

 

“I did **not** start that one,” Harry said, pointing a finger at Draco.

 

The blond sighed, helping himself to a piece of toast. “I’m not saying a word.”

 

“Good,” Harry replied with a grin, “because I wore my pjs to breakfast on purpose. I knew it would get your parents going.”

 

Draco chewed his toast harder than necessary. “Well since you’re feeling so – upbeat today, we need to talk.”

 

Harry paused, a forkful of eggs smothered in ketchup dripping in front of his open mouth. Eyes narrowing behind his glasses, he shoved the food into his mouth, allowing the fork to clatter down on Narcissa’s fine china. “Don’t make me loose my appetite,” Harry threatened around his mouthful, spraying eggs and ketchup across the table.

 

Draco chuckled. “I’m just happy to see you eating.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes.

 

“Calm down, it’s not that serious. We just need to talk about the wedding and Jamie’s naming ceremony.”

 

“Now?” Harry asked, which actually sounded more like ‘mrow?’ due to the amount of food in his mouth. He swallowed and took a long gulp of forbidden tea. “Can this wait until after breakfast at least?”

 

Not wanting to start a fight, Draco nodded. He watched silently as Harry seemed to pack away more food than he had during his entire pregnancy.

 

            An hour later, Harry was showered, dressed (for the first time in weeks), and seated across from Draco in their sitting room. Jamie slept in her bassinet next to the sofa while her parents discussed her upcoming ceremony.

 

“I don’t know why we even **need** a naming ceremony. The important people already know Jamie’s name.”

 

“It’s not about telling people her name. It’s about introducing the newest Malfoy to the wizarding world.”

 

“Potter.”

 

“Potter-Malfoy. It doesn’t matter what her last name is, it still has to be done.”

 

Harry flipped the fringe out of his eyes distractedly. “I still don’t understand **why** though.”

 

Draco unclenched the fists he hadn’t realized he was holding and wiped his sweaty palms on his charcoal trousers. “It’s tradition. I can’t explain it to you any better. I know you were raised by muggles-”

 

“Oh, now you’re starting on my heritage!” Harry bristled.

 

“It wasn’t an attack, love,” Draco countered smoothly. “It’s just that you didn’t celebrate these traditions while you were growing up.”

 

“Well, maybe my traditions are just more simplistic than yours,” Harry sighed. He knew he was fighting a loosing battle. “Can’t we just compromise? Who is required to be at this ceremony?”

 

“Us and Jamie, of course.” Draco thought for a moment. “Mother and Father, and the Prophet.”

 

“Then, that’s all we’ll have,” Harry replied simply, settling back into the sofa.

 

“Harry!” Draco chided, “We must have more than that.”

 

“But I don’t understand _why_. You know how I am with crowds and my current celebrity. If you announce to the world where we are going to be with Jamie, I’m not certain we’ll get out alive.”

 

“That’s complete rubbish, and you know it. I just thought we might have a small reception and allow the Daily Prophet to cover the event.”

 

“Do you promise it will be small?”  
  
”Small.”

 

            Small turned out to be 50 of the Malfoys’ closest friends – half of whom Harry didn’t even know. The Hogwarts professors were invited, as were Lucius’s associates from the Ministry, and several of Harry’s and Draco’s classmates. Blaise, who was chosen as Jamie’s godfather, was also in attendance with Seamus in tow. Initially, Draco had suggested Ron as Jamie’s godfather, but Harry shot down the idea. “I’m not going to trust my daughter with someone who is willing to throw away a friendship because of hearsay.” Blaise, being Draco’s best friend, was the next option. Naturally, Blaise was flattered and proud.

 

Harry pulled at the neckline of his itchy dress robes he had been forced into for the day. He had finally managed to escape the endless parade of names and handshakes that Draco was leading him through. He took a sip of the cold pumpkin juice in his hand, surveying the party.

 

The chosen venue was the smaller of two ballrooms in the Manor. Narcissa wanted to have the ceremony outside, but Harry didn’t want Jamie exposed to the sun.

 

“Good afternoon, Potter.” Harry started, choking on the pumpkin juice in his mouth. “Hi,” he rasped, before taking another drink to clear his throat.

 

“Your daughter is quite fetching, for a Potter. You should be thankful Draco is part Veela,” Snape said, helping himself to a drink.

 

“Did you come over here just to insult me, Professor? I’m sure there are others at this party who would be much more obliged to entertain your sarcastic comments.”

 

“Actually, I came over here to compliment you.”

 

“Compliment me? For what?”

 

“It is not many men who choose to carry children. You gave birth to a healthy, beautiful baby. There are not many men who choose to be in your shoes.”

 

“But I didn’t choose this initially. We both know that,” Harry answered, but Snape was already gone.

 

“Harry!” Draco called from across the room.

 

Setting his pumpkin juice down, he dutifully made his way to where Draco, Narcissa, Lucius, Blaise, and Jamie were waiting. “I’m here,” Harry sighed, wanting to be done with the whole thing. He took Jamie from Blaise and cradled the baby to his chest. Narcissa had insisted that Jamie be dressed in a pink lace monstrosity. Harry drew the line at a matching bonnet.

 

Placing a _sonorous_ charm on his throat, Lucius addressed the crowd. “Ladies and gentleman, if I may have your attention, please, I would like to introduce the newest member of our family.” Lucius paused. He took the baby from Harry, presenting her to he crowd. “I would like you all to meet my first grandchild, and heir to the Malfoy fortune, Jamie Lily Anne Malfoy!”

 

Harry’s stomach dropped. “Potter-Malfoy!” he hissed over the cheering crowd and flashing bulbs.

 

Lucius either didn’t hear him or chose to ignore him, because he continued. “Jamie is the daughter of my son and only child, Draco, and his fiancé, Harry Potter.”

 

The spotlight then turned to the happy couple. Draco put his arm around Harry with a bright smile on his face, showing how happy he was to have the entire world in his house. Harry, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to vomit.

 

Lucius continued his speech, but Harry wasn’t listening any longer. He managed to keep the fake smile on his face until the speech ended and the crowd began to disburse. He fled the ballroom without anyone noticing. He also managed to contain his tears until he was under the hot spray of the shower.

 

Draco was in their room when Harry finally emerged from the shower.

 

“I was wondering where you ran off to. You left so quickly after Father’s speech, I – Harry have you been crying?”

 

“No,” Harry answered, walking past Draco. One hand held his towel around his waist and the other rummaged in the bureau until he pulled out a clean white tee shirt and a pair of flannel trousers.

 

“Harry, what is wrong?” Draco asked, from his position on the bed.

 

“Nothing,” Harry snapped, as he stalked back across the floor and slammed the bathroom door shut again. When he emerged a second time, however, Draco was waiting with his arms crossed over his chest and an expectant look on his face.

 

“Leave me alone,” Harry said, his voice betraying the irritation he felt as he brushed past the blond. Draco grabbed his arm.

 

“ _What_ is your problem? I have said _or done_ anything to you all day!”

 

“Maybe you should ask your father!” Harry shot back, wrenching his arm free.

 

“My father? Why is this always about my father?” Suddenly the realization dawned on Draco’s face. “Harry, he didn’t mean it.”

 

Harry’s green eyes flashed beneath his spectacles. “Of course not. He never does.” Harry paused, the emotion filling his face. “He meant it. He knew exactly what he was doing. Merlin, we’ve had this conversation _how_ many times now?”

 

Draco looked defeated. “I’m sorry.”

 

Harry visibly swelled up and closed the space between them until there was a hair’s breath between them. “You’re damn right you’re sorry! If you would have just stood up to Daddy Dearest for _once_ , we wouldn’t even be _having_ this conversation for the _hundredth time_!”

 

Draco seized Harry’s face between his hands and kissed him on the mouth, generating all the love and passion he could communicate in one kiss. He pulled away and pressed a single finger to Harry’s swollen lips.

 

“Shh. I love you, just remember that. I’ll owl the Prophet later and make sure they print Jamie’s name correctly. Jamie Lily Anne Malfoy-Potter. I don’t want you crying in the shower anymore. You can always talk to me, you know that, right?”

 

Harry nodded.

 

Draco wrapped his arms around Harry’s shoulders, pulling him into a hug. “No more secrets, okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

Draco drew back, resting his forehead against Harry’s. “You realize we’re getting married in three weeks, right?”

 

“What?” Harry squeaked, tightening his grip on Draco’s shoulders.

 

“Three weeks from Saturday.” Draco smiled despite Harry’s uncertainty. “Your 17th birthday is 3 weeks from today. Two days after that, you’ll be a married man.”

 

“I need to sit down,” Harry said softly, as he began to swoon, sinking down into Draco’s arms.

 

“Harry, are you okay?” Draco asked, lowering his partner to the couch.

 

Harry gathered himself enough to put his head between his knees, breathing deeply. When he felt well enough, Harry sat u, gratefully accepting the conjured glass of water Draco handed him.

 

“Isn’t it,” he took a sip of water, “isn’t it a little early for us to get married?”

 

“Early?” Draco asked, the surprise evident in his voice as his eyebrows flew upward.

 

As if to make her opinion known, Jamie let out a wail from her bassinet. Harry, showing no trace of his nausea, jumped up and lifted Jamie out of the basket. He cradled the dark-haired baby to his chest, soothing her cries.

 

“I guess it isn’t too soon,” Harry conceded. He looked down at the baby in his arms. “Not too soon at all.

 

Draco rose from his seated position. He wrapped his arms around Harry and Jamie, placing a gentle kiss on his daughter’s head.


	33. Chapter 33

The few weeks proceeding Harry’s birthday passed effortlessly. Narcissa busied herself around the Manor, preparing for the upcoming nuptials. There hadn’t been a wedding at the Manor since Narcissa’s own and she was quite exciting about the prospect of marrying off her only son. She had desperately wanted a girl, but after Draco it was not an option. The fact that it was her son’s wedding instead of a daughter’s did nothing to dampen her excitement.

            With caterers, florists, musicians, photographers, seating arrangements, the rehearsal dinner, and wedding announcements to contend with, Narcissa more than had her hands full. She also had a small army to complete these tasks, on top of the complete mansion staff. It was clear Draco and Harry’s wedding was to be the premier event for the wizarding world that year.

* * *

Draco did his best to avoid the wedding preparations by devoting most of his time to Harry and Jamie. Harry didn’t want to be around the preparations either, so Draco suggested they leave Jamie at the Manor and head to the Malfoys’ summer home in Pau, France for Harry’s birthday.

            “Isn’t your mother planning some huge party for my birthday?” Harry asked, setting the bottle in his hand down. He turned Jamie to face his shoulder and began gently rubbing her back.

“Don’t worry, I already told her it was out of the question. She has enough to do with the wedding anyway. And I don’t think my father will even notice that we’re gone.”

Harry made a face. “I don’t know. The thought of leaving Jamie here without us just makes me really uncomfortable. She might not even let us out of her sight before she starts crying. She’s never been without one of us before.”

“She’ll be fine. I promise. We’ll leave her with Marjorie and my parents live here too, so they can watch her too. We’re only going to be gone for one night.”

“Then we get to come back and have the rehearsal dinner. I don’t think we’re going to have enough time. I mean, everyone is going to be here on Friday and if we’re still in France--”

Draco cut him off with two fingers placed to Harry’s lips. “Trust me, lover. We’re only going to be gone for the evening. Jamie will be safe for 24 hours. We’ll be back in time for the rehearsal and nobody outside the Manor even needs to know we left.”

“I better not regret this.”

Draco kissed Harry on the cheek, taking the baby from his arms. “If you do, I’ll take you to Spain to make up for it.”

“You know you can’t just keep taking me on trips across Europe every time I get slightly stressed out.”

“I know.” Draco grinned. “But I can try.”

* * *

Harry and Draco arrived in Pau via portkey. With his stitches freshly removed, Harry was not in prime condition to apparate. They landed in the sweeping driveway carved out of the land in front of the house. The Malfoy estate in Pau held a modest chateau on 5 acres of land, overlooking the river.

“Oh Draco, it’s lovely,” Harry sighed softly, placing a hand on Draco’s arm. Draco smiled to himself, enjoying the serene look that stole over his husband-to-be.

The couple walked between large white pillars supporting the second floor balcony and into the house. The main foyer, which contained little more than a crystal chandelier led to a dining room and a sitting room. A winding staircase separated the staff quarters, and the kitchens from the rest of the house.

Taking Harry by the hand, Draco led him up the wooden stairs to the upper level of the house. Double doors met them at the height of the stairs, opposite a balcony overlooking the foyer. Throwing open the doors dramatically, Draco revealed the suite within. Another sitting room with several chairs, a chaise, and an occasional table led to a grandiose bedroom set, not unlike Draco’s own at the Manor.

A door to the left opened into a white marble bathroom.

Surrounded by windows, a sunken bathtub dominated the centre of the room. Marble steps on all sides led down into the tub. Draco pulled Harry towards a set of glittering gold taps on one end of the pool. “Warm water, hot water, cold water, bubble bath, massage oil, body wash, shampoo, and conditioner,” he murmured, running his hand over the appropriate tap. “And this button,” he said, sliding his hand over a gold piece, separate from the taps, “turns on the whirl pool.”

“It’s lovely,” Harry said.

“I know. I can’t wait to try it out.”

“You’ve never used it?” Harry asked, turning away from the view of the bathtub to look at Draco.

“No. I’ve only been here once and that was when I was a lot younger. We were only here for the evening. My parents stayed up here and I stayed downstairs in one of the guest rooms. There are two of them down there.”

“Hmm…” Harry mused. His attention had already turned to the set of French and windows that took up the entire right side of the bathroom.

            Stepping out onto the enclosed veranda, Harry took in the sight of _le Gave de Pau_ , which runs through the heart of Pau. In the distance he could see _le Ch_ _â_ _teau de Pau_ , the castle where King Henry IV of France was born. The sight nearly took his breath away, as he had never been outside of the United Kingdom.

           

            “Do you like it?” Draco asked, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist and nestling his face in the juncture between Harry’s neck and shoulder. He sighed into the soft fabric of Harry’s jumper.

           

            “The view? It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

 

            “No, I meant the house, but the view goes with it. What do you think of the house?”

 

            “It’s gorgeous,” Harry gushed. “How could I not love it? It’s so much more,” he paused, searching for words, “comfortable than the Manor.”

 

            “Good. It’s yours.”

 

            “What?” Harry spun around in Draco’s arms, searching the blonde’s face for an answer to his unexplained question. “What are you talking about?” he asked, his eyebrows knitted in confusion.

 

            “It’s yours. Well, ours, but yours. Consider it an early wedding present.”

 

            “Draco, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please fill me in because I clearly do not understand what you’re saying. This house is not mine.”

           

            “Yes, love, it is.” Draco tucked a lock of hair behind Harry’s ear. “I talked to my father and he agreed to give us this house. We don’t have to live here, but we also don’t have to share this house with my parents – or any one else in the family for that matter. This is our little piece of heaven to turn to whenever we need it. It’s _ours_.”

 

* * *

           

 

_Harry walked down the aisle carefully, steadily. The path was covered in a layer of blood so thick it gurgled and sloshed around his bare feet with every measured step he took. There was also a steady drip of blood from the bouquet in his hands to his pristine white trousers. The bouquet, made entirely of white roses with a single red rose in the centre, hid the shackles around his wrists. Loosening his hold on the flowers slightly, Harry could hear the chains tinkle, despite the steady hum of the traditional muggle wedding March._

_With his eyes fixed firmly ahead, he could see Draco at the altar. The blond stared back at him, a wolfish smile gracing his aristocratic features. His crimson tuxedo matched the blood Harry was wading through, although the brunet could tell the bottom of his trousers was a darker red._

_Harry came to a stop in from of his soon-to-be husband, lowering his jade eyes to the bouquet in his hands. Draco took the flowers, removed the red rose, and handed the rest to Blaise. He broke the stem off the red rose and tucked the bud behind Harry’s ear._

_“You look delicious,” he said, taking both of Harry’s shackled hands._

_“Draco Lucius, will you take Harry James as your husband?” the Ministry official asked from behind them._

_Before Draco could answer, Lucius stepped up behind Harry. “Son, you don’t want to marry this one,” he said, wrapping an arm around the brunet’s waist. “He’s damaged goods.”_

_Harry’s breathing sped up the moment Lucius’s hand touched him. He looked down at his shackled hands in Draco’s, then threw his head back and let out a blood-curdling scream._

“Harry, wake up!”

Harry opened his eyes and sat straight up in bed, unaware that he had been screaming in his sleep. He was breathing like he had just run a marathon and he was covered in a thin layer of sweat. Fighting to catch his breath, he looked at Draco, who had concern written all over his face.

            “It was just a dream,” he said, soothingly, running a hand up and down Harry’s bare back.

            “Oh gods,” Harry sighed. “It seemed so real.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “I need some water.”

            Sliding out of bed, he padded to the bathroom in his pajama bottoms. Fumbling across the sinks without the aid of his glasses, he managed to locate a glass and fill it with water. He downed the glass in one gulp and filled it up again. He took a single sip before setting it back down on the sink.

Setting his hands down on the sink, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. In the space of 10 months, he wasn’t the boy he used to be, but he wasn’t the man everyone expected him to be either. Leaning into the mirror, he stared into his own green eyes.

            “Get it together, Potter.”

* * *

The Weasleys, Draco’s parents, and their close friends were waiting in the elaborate Malfoy gardens for the rehearsal to start. Harry was on the porch leading to the gardens with Ron. Although he was only clad in soft muggle trousers and a button-up shirt (against Draco’s wishes) he kept jerking at his clothing nervously.

 

            “I can’t do this, Ron,” he told the redhead, dragging a hand through his carefully styled hair.

            Ron winced. “Yes, you can.”

            Harry threw his hands in the air and stormed out into the gardens. He ignored the pleased comments about his appearance.

            “Where is Draco?” he growled.

            “I’m over here, love,” Draco called from the shade of the roses.

            Harry stormed over to him. “What is all this?” he exclaimed, gesturing to the guests and the decorations. Before Draco could answer, Harry wrapped his arms around the blonde's waist and stood up on his toes to rest his forehead against Draco’s. “Draco, I am so terrified,” he confessed, with wide eyes.

            Draco slid his hands over Harry’s hips. “You’ll be fine. We’re doing this together, remember?”

            Harry sighed, and laid his head on Draco’s chest. “I just don’t know if I can do it.”

            “Don’t worry,” Blaise interrupted. “There are spells and potions for protection.”

            Harry turned his head to glare at Blaise. “The last thing we need is one of your concoctions.” He looked at Draco. “I need to talk to you. Alone.”

            Blaise shrugged and strode away, leaving the lovers alone to talk.

“I can’t go through with this,” Harry said, wrapping his arms around his waist defensively.

“Can’t go through with what, specifically?” Draco asked, sitting down o the swing Harry frequently used to rock Jamie to sleep.

“All the people. The marriage. Having sex tomorrow night. Any of it. I hate crowds, you know that.”

“Harry, come here.” Begrudgingly, Harry closed the space between them, and allowed himself to be pulled down onto Draco’s lap. “If you really don’t want to marry me tomorrow, you don’t have to say yes. And I most certainly don’t want you to feel obligated to have sex with me just because we’re married. Have I ever pushed you into anything you weren’t comfortable with?”

Harry sighed and laid his head against Draco’s shoulder. “No.”

“Then what do you want to do?”

“I can change my mind any time, right?” Harry asked, tentatively.

“Of course, love.” Draco replied, dropping a kiss on the top of Harry’s unruly mop.

“Okay.” Harry stood up, a look of determination on his face.

When they reentered the main garden, there was a collective sigh of relief.

            “Are we ready, now?” the Ministry official asked from the front of the chairs, annoyed.

            Lucius, who was standing next to the man, gave him an icy glare. “We are paying you well for your time – not for your unwelcome comments.”

            The official turned a sickly colour and gulped audibly. “Of course, Mr. Malfoy.” He cleared his throat, before addressing the audience. “Young Master Malfoy, if you could please stand next to me, we’ll begin.”

            Harry’s eyes grew frantically wide as Draco began to pull his hand away. “If you need to stop, just say the word and we will,” Draco whispered into Harry’s ear, before kissing his cheek and pulling away. The young aristocrat took his place between the Official and Blaise.

            “Now, Mr. Potter, you will proceed down the isle with your escort.”

            Instead of offering his arm to Hermione, as he was supposed to, Harry took her hand and squeezed it tightly. Hermione gave him a small smile and squeezed his hand back reassuringly.

            “What happened to your Gryffindor courage?” Hermione whispered, as they walked down the rows of chairs.

            “It flew out the window hen I realized I would be professing my love for Draco in front of 700 people I’ve never met.”

            Hermione left Harry at Draco’s side with a kiss on the cheek. Harry let go of Hermione’s and in favor of clutching Draco’s.

            “Nervous?” Draco whispered.

            Harry grunted in reply.

            “Now then,” the Official continued. “I will address the guests. Who is giving Draco to be married?”

            “His mother and I are,” Lucius said, regally from Draco’s other side.

            “And who gives Harry to be married?”

            “My wife and I do,” Arthur Weasley spoke up from the other side of the isle.

            “Good.” The official nodded. “I’ll say a few words now. Then I believe you’ve written your own vows?”

            “Yes,” Draco nodded.

            “Excellent. You will exchange vows. And then I’ll ask for the rings.”

            “Ron and Blaise are going to hold the rings,” Harry said, speaking up for the first time.

            “After that,” the Official continued, “I’ll present you to the guests, and that is when you will kiss.”

            Draco looked at Harry and waggled his eyebrows suggestively, causing Harry to blush scarlet.

            “Then you will proceed down the isle. Happily ever after.” The man clapped his hands together. “Any questions?” When nobody answered, he nodded once. “I will see you all here tomorrow promptly at noon.” He stepped around Harry and Draco and left without another word.

            “Dinner should be served soon, if you would all like to join us in the dining hall,” Narcissa said, ever the hostess. “Are you coming?” she asked, turning to Draco.

            “We’ll be there in a minute, mother,” he answered.

            Narcissa nodded, allowing Harry and Draco to remain behind in silence.

            “Harry, I just want to make sure you’re aware of the – customs are going to take place.”

            Harry bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from shouting. “What customs?” he asked, through gritted teeth.

            “Well,” Draco started, taking Harry’s hands. “After dinner tonight, we aren’t supposed to see each other until you’re walking down the isle tomorrow.”

            Harry’s jaw clenched, unclenched, and clenched, unclenched again. “You didn’t think this was important enough to tell me before now? We haven’t spent a night apart since Jamie was born. Is it tradition that I won’t see my daughter until tomorrow as well?”

            “No, of course not.” Draco shook his head. “It’s just that, had we been – intimate – before now, it wouldn’t have been an issue.”

            “In case you’ve forgotten, we’ve already been together. Did you forget that we made a baby?”

            “It was before the engagement, so it doesn’t count.”

            Harry pulled his hands away, choosing to wrap them around himself. “Who makes up these rules, anyway?”

            Draco moved to stand behind Harry, wrapping his arms around the smaller boy’s waist, and lacing their fingers together.

            “Is our marriage doomed if we spend the night together tonight?” Harry sighed, leaning back into Draco’s arms.

            “Of course, not.” Draco replied automatically.

            “Then _why_ do we have to spend it apart?”

            Draco sighed, burying his face in Harry's shoulder. They stayed like that for a few minutes until Draco finally raised his head. "I know you don't want to hear it, Harry, and especially not from my mouth, not again. However," he paused, whetting his lips, "it is tradition that the bride and bridegroom spend the night before their wedding in separate bedrooms, lest their marriage be doomed from the beginning."

            Harry unwound himself from Draco rather forcibly, pushing the blond away from him. "I bet you got that directly from your father's dirty mouth. I'm so _tired_ of abiding by this stupid pureblood rules. Why can't your family just get over the fact that the world isn't going to fall apart if we don't abide by these arcane rules set in stone by your ancestors."

            Narcissa walked back into the room, preventing Draco's reply. She looked between her son and his soon-to-be husband disapprovingly. "I don't know what just transpired between the two of you, but dinner is about to be served." She forced a smile onto her face. "We can't serve dinner without our guests of honor, now can we?"

* * *

The moment the final dessert plates were cleared, Draco stood up, biding everyone a fond goodnight. He grabbed Harry's hand, begging off from his guests that they wished to spend their final moments together with their daughter before parting for the night.

Harry rolled his eyes, but allowed Draco to lead him away.

They did not go to their rooms where Jamie waited with her nurse, however. Instead Draco led Harry to a part of the mansion Harry had never before seen.

Harry's eyes widened, and he brought a hand to his mouth to hide his shock. It was a nursery.

Draco crossed the room, running his hand along the pale pink rail of the crib. "This used to be my room. I had Marjorie help me with the remodeling, but I did most of it myself by hand. Originally the furniture was pained green. I did all the pink and white by myself. Funny, using muggle methods to paint."

Harry, awestruck, didn't know what to say. He crossed the room, fingertips trailing over the painted wood of Jamie's dresser, her changing table, and the wooden rocking chair in the corner of the room. He sat down on the seated cushion, testing the rocker out for himself.

"When did you do this?"

"Mostly when you were asleep. I had one of the house elves alert me if you woke up, so I was always there. You never knew I was gone. It worked well. I was going to wait to show you until after the wedding, but I thought it would be appropriate now."

Harry looked around the room, amazed by everything he saw. "I just don't know what to say. It's amazing, Draco. I love it." He stood up, crossing the room to his lover. "Thank you."

Draco kissed him soundly on the mouth.

"I love you, you fool-hardy Gryffindor. Can you accept that, now? It's not a matter of spending the night with you, or my family's traditions. I love you. That's why I want to marry you. And, Harry, I promise, this is the last tradition."

Harry closed his eyes for a moment.

"Yes," he said opening them. "Yes, I will honor this last tradition. And yes, I will marry you tomorrow, Draco Malfoy."


	34. Chapter 34

The morning of his wedding, Harry woke up, reaching his arm out to the left, looking for Draco out of habit. Finding nothing but an empty bed, he sat up quickly looking around the room. He called out Draco's name twice before remembering they had spent the night apart.

 

Harry threw the blankets off and stepped onto the lush carpet.

 

His wedding robes, similar to the ones he wore to the Yule Ball in fourth year, hung in the open armoire. Easing the anxiety from his earlier nightmare, the robes looked nothing like the muggle tuxedo he wore in the dream. Before he could take another step, a house elf appeared in front of him, wearing a couple towels sown together.

 

"Master Harry, Pip is here to help before the wedding," the elf said with a low bow.

 

Harry stepped around the elf, uncomfortably. "I can get dressed myself, thanks." He crossed the room, heading for the door. "But first I need to go check on my daughter, Jamie."

 

Quick as a flash, the elf was sprawled against the door, eyes as wide as dinner plates, staring up at Harry. "Master Harry mustn't leave! Not until the ceremony! He mustn't see Master Draco until the ceremony!"

 

"I said I was going to see my daughter – not Draco. Now, move." He pulled at the door handle with all his might but it didn't budge. Stepping back, Harry crossed his hands over his chest. "Pip, I command you to move."

 

"I is sorry, Master Harry, but my orders come from Master Lucius."

 

"Lucius? Really! We'll see about this!" Harry roared, stomping over to the fireplace. He reached up to the floo pot, only to find it empty. "I don't get any floo powder? What the bloody hell is going on?"

 

Pip stood by the door, wringing his hands nervously at Harry's anger. "I is having to remove the floo powder, so Master Harry couldn't contact Master Draco before the wedding."

 

"Oh yeah?" Harry said. His nerves were beginning to fray at the edges. "Well how about this: the wedding is off."

 

"Oh, oh, oh," Pip moaned, jumping nervously from foot to foot. "Master Harry can't be serious. Pip is going to be in so much trouble." The elf began to bang its head against the dresser.

 

"Hey, hey," Harry said, approaching the elf. He never enjoyed seeing any creature in pain. "You don't have to do that."

 

"Pip is being in so much trouble!" The elf cried, smashing its fingers in the dresser drawers.

 

"No, calm down," Harry said, trying to pull the elf away from the dresser. "Just bring Lucius to me and then everything will be fine."

 

"Pip mustn't be doing that either, Sir. Master Harry must stay alone in his room until he goes down to the gardens for the wedding. Master Harry is not to be seeing anyone until the wedding."

 

Harry considered this, walking back and forth in front of the elf. "What about my owl?"

 

"Sir?"

 

"Hedwig, my owl. What about her? Can I see her?"

 

"Pip is thinking yes, Master Harry. Pip will bring Hedwig." With a crack, the elf disappeared.

 

Seizing his opportunity, Harry lunged for the door and jerked the handle. Nothing. The House Elf magic was still intact. He sat down on his bed, chin in his palm. "Why didn't we just elope?" he asked the empty room.

 

Pip returned moments later with Hedwig on his arm. The owl hooted softly when she saw Harry. He held out his arm, to which the bird flew obligingly.

 

"Pip, I need a bit of parchment, some ink and a quill." With a snap, Harry had the items on his occasional table.

 

Dipping the quill in ink, he quickly penned a note.

 

_Draco –_

_I'd advise you get me out of this damn room or the wedding is off. Your Elf is irritating and I will not be held as a captive on my wedding day._

_-HP_

He handed the note to Hedwig, who took it in her beak. "I need you to take this to Draco." Hedwig spread her massive wings and took off through the window Harry hadn't realized was open.

 

His reply came less than fifteen minutes later.

 

_Harry –_

_I'll see what I can do, but I won't be able to see you until the wedding. Can you last until 11:30? I'll send my mother up to get rid of the elf. Don't sweat this road block; it will all be over soon."_

_Love you,_

_Draco_

True to Draco's word, Lucius appeared at Harry's door to escort him to the informal dining room, albeit much later than Harry would have liked. He found Marjorie and Jamie waiting for him at an elaborately prepared breakfast table. Taking Jamie in his arms gratefully, he rubbed the baby's back.

 

"Has she been fed yet?"

 

"Yes," Marjorie answered, smiling. "Now you need to eat, Mr. Groom-to-be. It wouldn't do for you to faint before you say your vows."

 

Harry sat down at the table, glancing over the danishes, bangers & mash, quiche, scrambled eggs, pancakes, and pumpkin juice. "I'm really not hungry right now."

 

"It's just your nerves," Marjorie said, handing him a full plate. "You need to eat. You're going to need your strength for later." She added a grin and a wiggle of her eyebrows to the last.

 

Harry started to look green around the gills. "Really. I'm definitely not hungry."

 

* * *

Marjorie could convince Harry to eat anything until he was standing behind a partition in the gardens, dressed in his wedding robes. He crammed a few crackers into his mouth to calm his rolling stomach because Snape refused to give him a calming potion.

 

"I can't do this. I really can't," Harry pleaded, trying to get past Marjorie and Hermione.

 

"Harry, you're going to be fine," Hermione said, stroking the brunette's arm. "The whole ceremony will only take about 15 minutes."

 

"But I'm only seventeen!" Harry moaned, looking around the gardens wildly. "What if Draco leaves me when I turn 20? Or 22? Then what? I mean, Jamie will be three or four by then. How am I going to explain to her that her other father left because we got married when we were seventeen?"

 

Hermione slapped him clean across the face.

 

"Get a grip, Potter. It's just your nerves. Draco isn't going to leave you any faster than the man in the moon is going to come down for lunch at the Manor. Now get your silly arse together, because it's time to go." She grabbed him by the arm, standing just outside of the pathway.

 

Harry heard the music begin and his heart started to pound. He broke out in a sweat, his breathing quickening as he and Hermione rounded the corner. Then his saw Draco and his world narrowed down to himself and his beloved.

 

Draco was also wearing dress robes, but his had edges of silver along the length of the robe. Harry's breath caught at how resplendent and mature the other man looked. It what seemed like a matter of seconds, they were standing next to each other. Draco took his hands and kissed him softly on each cheek.

 

The ministry official in front of them (a different one than had officiated the rehearsal) cast a _sonorous_ charm on his throat. "Good afternoon, friends! I would first like to welcome you to the union of Draco Lucius Malfoy and Harry James Potter. This is a wonderful time in which two souls, two hearts, may become one." First, he looked at Draco. "Who gives this young man to be married?"

 

Lucius and Narcissa stood up from the right. "His mother and I do," Lucius said, regally.

 

The ministry official nodded. He then looked at Harry. "And who gives this young man to be married?"

 

Molly and Arthur Weasley stood up from the left. "We do," the couple said together.

 

The ministry official nodded again. "The couple will now exchange their vows."

 

Draco licked his lips, taking a breath. "Harry, from the moment I first laid eyes on you, I knew I wanted you. We were only eleven, but I knew I had to have you. Six years later, I finally got you, and I haven't taken your love for granted during one minute of our time together. I vow that I will love you, care for you, and provide for you until my dying day. I love you, Harry Potter."

 

Harry began to speak with tears in his eyes. "I didn't rehearse my vows. Actually, I didn't write any vows at all. I tried, but the words wouldn't come out and I just didn't feel comfortable memorizing something that was supposed to come from the heart.

 

"Some people might pity me and think that my "situation" is so tragic and terrible. Yes, some of it is. I don't have my parents. I don't have siblings. But thanks to you, Draco, I have a family. I have something to live for. You gave me a beautiful daughter. Now you're offering yourself up to me as a husband. That's more than I could ever ask for. I vow that I will honor you, respect you, and love you until I die. I, Harry Potter, vow to take Draco Malfoy as my husband until I take my last breath."

 

 

* * *

 

Draco led his new husband into their bedroom by the hand. Harry looked anxious, but he was doing well so far.

 

“Remember, Harry, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Draco said, as he turned to Harry and cupped the smaller boy’s cheek in his hand.

 

“I do,” Harry answered, smiling slightly. “I really do.” He tilted his chin upward and Draco obliged him with a soft kiss. Harry slipped both of his arms around Draco’s neck before he deepened the kiss. A small noise of appreciation resonated from Draco’s throat.

 

He took the opportunity to back Harry up slowly until his legs hit the bed behind them. Harry broke the kiss. He looked up at his husband with large doe eyes as he began to worry his lip.

 

Draco nuzzled his face into the hollow of Harry’s neck. “If you want me to stop, just say the word.” He could feel the brunet’s frantic heartbeat.

 

“Okay.” The whisper was so soft it almost sounded like a sigh. Draco took a step back to remove his outer dress robes and shoes. He stood then wearing only his crisp white dress shirt, black trousers and bow tie.

 

“May I?” he asked, stepping forward to flick the clasp holding Harry’s robes together. Harry only nodded. He was silent while Draco removed his robes and shoes as well.

 

Draco kissed him again, and Harry was almost dizzy from the intensity of the kiss.

 

“Lie back,” Draco whispered, supporting Harry’s weight as they eased down onto the duvet. Once they were settled, Draco propped himself up on one elbow, tracing idle designs on Harry’ chest while he stared into the deep emerald eyes.

 

“What?” Harry asked, shifting uncomfortably under the gaze.

 

“You’re beautiful.”

 

Harry blushed and looked away. Draco took the opportunity to kiss and nibble at the exposed expanse of neck. He nimbly removed Harry’s bowtie and unbuttoned the collar of Harry’s blouse.

 

“Is this okay?” Draco asked, drawing Harry’s attention back once more, as he worked the second button.

 

“Yeah,” Harry answered, his breath hitching as Draco’s fingers grazed the soft flesh of his chest. He had rarely let the blond see him shirtless let alone touch his chest during the pregnancy. As the blouse slipped form his shoulders, Harry lifted himself slightly to allow Draco to remove the garment completely.

 

For better or worse, most of his scars were now laid bare to his husband’s eyes. Harry couldn’t help himself from beginning to shake in fear of rejection.

 

“Are you cold?” Draco asked, concerned. “We can get under the blankets, if you like.”

 

Harry crossed his arms over his bare chest awkwardly, only succeeding in revealing the numerous scars on his arms. A concerned look passed over Draco’s features. Gently, but firmly, he captured both of Harry’s wrists in his hands. Starting with the infamous lightning bolt scar on Harry’s forehead, Draco worked his way down each of Harry’s arms, as well as his chest, laying a soft kiss on each of the scars.

 

He let go of Harry’s wrists as his mouth moved over the deep scar beneath Harry’s navel, from where Jamie was born. He could see Harry’s arousal straining through his trousers. Glancing up at his husband’s face, the hand that carded through his blond locks was all the encouragement Draco needed. He unbuttoned Harry’s trousers and pulled them, along with the pants, down the brunette’s legs. He cast the garments aside and admired the beauty of Harry laid completely bare for the first time.

 

The scars didn’t take anything away from the vision before him. The weight Harry put on during his pregnancy failed to be a deterrent as well. Instead of seeing each of the brunette’s ribs due to malnourishment, the pregnancy weight had filled Harry out to a comfortable, healthy size.

 

Harry’s cock lay nestled against his belly in a nest of dark curls. A hidden treasure had been kept from Draco for so long. Ever so slowly, wary of Harry’s unease, he settled himself between the bronze thighs. A drop of precome worked its way up, out the tip of Harry’s cock, and slid down the length of the shaft. Draco nearly lost himself and he bent his head down and traced the path of the droplet with his tongue.

 

Above him, Harry let out a deep sigh. It had been for too long for both of them. Draco wasted no time lowering his mouth over the tip of Harry’s cock. He worked his tongue of the head until Harry was making low keening noises in his throat before he swallowed his husband to the base. Harry cried out and Draco had to pull roughly on his balls to keep him from coming. Draco eased himself up and off Harry’s cock.

 

“Easy, love.”

 

Harry’s cheeks turned a slight pink and he threw his head back. “Right,” he answered, clearly embarrassed. “Sorry about that. It’s been a long time.”

 

“Hey.” Draco stretched himself out beside Harry, so he could look into the smaller man’s face. “You don’t ever have to be embarrassed with me. If you want this,” he paused, giving Harry’s cock a firm stroke with his hand, “you should never be afraid to ask.” Draco licked a stripe down the shell of Harry’s ear. He finished in a whisper, “I just want you to come when I’m inside of you.” Harry’s cock gave a very interested twitch

 

Draco chuckled. “ _Accio lube_ ,” he said, summoning the squat container sitting on the dresser across the room. Harry held his breath as the bottled sailed in a graceful arch across the room and into Draco’s open hand. The blond set his wand on the table beside the bed and set the lube on the bed between them.

 

“Are you ready?” Draco asked, searching Harry’s eyes for any sign of resistance.

 

“Yeah,” Harry answered, his breathing shallow and eyes lidded.

 

Dipping his fingers into the jar of lubricant, Draco made sure they were completely coated. He carried his fingers to Harry's entrance, rubbing softly to coat him thoroughly. "Remember, if you need to stop, just say the word."

 

Above him, Harry nodded.

 

Gently, gently, Draco pushed one of his fingers slightly into Harry's body, pulled it out, and pushed back in. He repeated this movement a few times, until his finger was completely sheathed.

 

"How's that?" he whispered.

 

Harry nodded, letting out a shaky breath. "Good."

 

Speeding up his rhythm, Draco carefully added a second finger, stretching Harry slowly. With the same precision, he added a third finger, thrusting them in and out until Harry was mewling and near frenzy above him. He pulled all of his fingers from Harry's body, stretching himself out along the length of his new husband.

 

            "I'll go slowly," Draco whispered, promising with a soft kiss. Taking himself in hand, he guided his length to the entrance of Harry's body. "Bear down as I push in." With no more warned, he pressed himself into Harry until his balls nestled against Harry's cheeks. "Are you okay?" he asked, peppering Harry's face with kisses.

 

"Yeah," Harry answered, biting his lip.

 

Draco pulled out and pushed back in, increasing the speed and depth with each thrust. As he got closer, he took Harry's cock in his hand, pumping in time with his thrusts. "Oh, Ghods, Harry," he groaned, burying his face in Harry's shoulder. "I don't know how much longer I can last."

 

"I'm almost there," Harry sighed, thrusting his hips up to meet Draco's thrusts.

 

With a soft sigh, he came over Draco's closed fist. Moments later, Draco followed, emptying himself into Harry's warm body.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Harry stood in the entrance hall, holding Jamie tightly. His and Draco's bags were packed for their trip to the British Virgin Islands for their honeymoon. The only problem was getting Harry to leave their daughter behind.

 

"Come on now, love, our portkey leaves in five minutes. That gives us about four minutes to get outside the front gates," Draco said gently, tugging at Harry's arm.

 

After a second round of kisses, Harry handed his baby over to Marjorie. "Don't forget that she needs fed five times a day. And burp her after she eats. Then she likes a nap around 11-"

 

"Love," Draco interrupted, "Marjorie knows how to take care of Jamie. Besides, you left a list with her, a list in Jamie's nursery, and a list in our rooms. It will be okay, I promise."

 

Harry nodded, turning away. "Okay, let's go before I change my mind." He allowed Draco to pull him out the door and down through the front gate of the Manor.

 

"I can't believe we're finally married," Harry said, glancing down at the ring on his third finger – the Malfoy family ring that until yesterday had lived on a chain around his neck.

 

"Indeed," Draco said, living Harry's hand to his mouth and bestowing a kiss upon the ring.

 

"Who would have guessed eleven months ago that we'd be married and have a daughter today?"

 

"Certainly not me," Draco said with a chuckle.

 

"You know," Harry mused, "I never did thank you for giving me that potion."

 

"Yes you did, Harry," Draco said, fingering the band on his own finger.

 

Harry looked up at his husband, the man he loved, and kissed him soundly on the mouth. "Draco Malfoy, what would I do without you?" he asked, just before the portkey activated and took them away.

 

_~Fin~_

_October 2002 – 24 July 2008_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me six years to write this fic and another seven to get it all posted on AO3. I truly hope you enjoyed the ride. This was the first novel-length piece I ever completed.


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